Crimson Dreams
by Raiyne of Gailin
Summary: After Link saves Termina, he DOES NOT go on to save other lands, but rather becomes a teen bounty hunter. Rated "R" for later violence and adult situations.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Ok, I guess everyone puts one of these in here, so here's mine. I obviously don't own Zelda or Link or any other characters thought up by Miyamoto, or anything else Legend of Zelda related. I just like to write about them.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
"Tunnels seem to go on forever in the dark," I think aloud. "Dark, cold, and wet... the average tunnel for the average price!" Though I find myself amusing, my counterpart obviously ignores humor altogether. He just scoffs at me, never losing his pace. I grunt at my displeasing company and stomp childishly behind him.  
  
"What the hell is wrong wi' you, kid? We are on a serious mission 'ere, an' all you can do is play around like some infant. Shut up an' walk." He continues to mumble his rantings under his breath, and I can't help but to mimic him. Luckily I am pretty fast on my feet, lest I would be knocked in the jaw when he attempts to backhand me. Prancing around my colleague like the fool that I am, I take the lead and wander a good ten feet ahead of him.  
  
I enjoy the sound of my boots tapping lightly on the cool stone for a few minutes, that is until I realize that it's the only sound I hear. Whipping around, my eyes search frantically for the red speck of light from my counterpart's cigarette, but to no avail. Hearing no oncoming footsteps or his habitual grunting, I begin to worry about his whereabouts. The fact that I, a fourteen-year-old bounty hunter, am all alone in a dark cave with no means of light, warmth, or food [my partner has the pack] upsets me a little. I must admit that I sometimes fear the dark, especially when wandering in an endless tunnel where almost anything can happen. A cave with sharp rocks, dead ends, deep pools of stagnant, muddy water... and bugs. I sure hate bugs. I have ever since I defeated that Gohma creature.  
  
"Keal," I call out to my comrade. "You're there, aren't you?" I hesitate in the hopes that a response will cause me relief, but only silence ensues. "Come on, Keal. Answer me!" I can feel my knees begin to shake a bit, and the very air seems heavier. Thoughts of death in an endless darkness aren't very appetizing at the moment. I feel as though my nerves are about to go—  
  
"Hey, kid!" At no other moment have I jumped higher, nearly hitting my head on the cave ceiling while Keal laughs a storm behind me. "You sure are easy to start up! Maybe you should stay home wi' your mommy next time, boy!"  
  
"You really shouldn't sneak up on people, Keal, much less wander off and leave them. I mean, it's not like I was—"  
  
"Shut up, sissy boy. We're almost 'ere." I hadn't even noticed that we were still moving. Finally, a tiny speck of light lay up ahead, an end to all this darkness. Fresh air. Dry land. Soft grass. My imagination was cut short, however, when we reached the opening of the cave to find, basically, a desert. We both stare into the open nothingness a moment, finally able to see more than the tip of a cigarette. Keal looks a bit dirtier than usual, probably from all that moisture in the caves. His mustache, almost reminiscent of Ingo's but messier, is dripping in sweat. His red shirt, with neat u-shape soaked in sweat as well, emphasizes the bit of stomach that hangs over his waistline. The only things not soaked in sweat are his rugged brown pants and short, black-leather boots. He looks like a regular beauty queen.  
  
"What're you smirkin' at, kid?" A quirked eyebrow and tightly pursed mouth tell me I'd better change the subject. I kick at the ground until I can come up with something exceptionally intelligent to reply with.  
  
"Nice weather out here, eh?" Alright, it's not the wittiest thing I've ever said, but it works, nonetheless.  
  
"Shut your trap."  
  
"No, seriously, who are we going after this time?" I try to act as though I care.  
  
"I told you already."  
  
"Well, tell me again. I forget." Actually, I think he mumbles everything when I'm not paying attention, but he doesn't really need to know that.  
  
"Korpus Hellpahrn, he's a regular at the inn o'er in Farheim." I just can't help myself.  
  
"A regular, eh? So he drinks a lot, then?" Almost getting smacked in the jaw a second time tells me when to quit. Backing off, I brush imaginary dirt from the front of my tunic, pretending not to be affected.  
  
"No, stupid. He's the leader of a band of bloody thieves. We have to bring 'im in so he doesn't rob the poor man anymore. Get it?"  
  
"Sure, sure," I say, straightening the bottom of my tunic. It seems that, no matter how cheap the material, a tunic is always convenient. Loose- fitting for movement, tight enough so that it doesn't catch on anything, and all around comfy. Not to mention, green is totally my color.  
  
I finally find the time to realize that we are, once again, walking. I stay a bit behind, pondering the meaning of life and such, while he stumbles ahead, probably thinking of the next restaurant to terrorize. How I got stuck with this guy for a partner, I'll never understand. I used to be a termed "hero" for crying out loud, and now it's down to eating two- week-old leftovers from a low-class tavern with the bell of the roughneck ball. How lucky for me.  
  
"There it is," he states rather abruptly, causing me to almost lose my footing. "Would you calm down!? Goddesses, if you weren't accustomed to blinking you would lose your head!"  
  
"What is that supposed to mean? I merely tripped on a, um, rock, thingie," I say, lightly kicking at the dirt below, which I notice is completely void of rocks.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, right, sure. You're a freakin' wuss." So I startle easily, it's not my fault. He stomps ahead toward a tiny little setup that slightly resembles a camp. No more than five tents stand in a circle around a pitifully small campfire. Crouching behind a wooden crate about twenty feet from the nearest tent, Keal motions to me to do the same. Not missing a beat, I stroll confidently past him toward the tents, poking out my chest and swaying my arms almost violently in jest.  
  
"What the hell're you doin'!? Get back 'ere!" I don't look back, trying to make my point very clear to him. Why should I listen to him? After all, I've fought monsters and probably the greatest evil there ever was; a few petty thieves should be nothing.  
  
As I get closer to the center of the camp, I notice more and more tents on the other side of the original five I saw earlier. I also can't help but notice my pace steadily slowing to a halt just before I reach the campfire. Twelve, sixteen, twenty, twenty-eight; goddesses, there's a whole fleet of them. How could two people take in these guys? Now, I think to myself, would be a good time to back out of this place. I start staggering backward to where Keal is so cleverly hiding. Unfortunately, my progress comes to a deadly halt when I trip over some spare firewood, my back making a personal visit to the ground below. The sound of a branch snapping has always baffled me. How is it that, no matter the size of the branch, even the smallest twig breaking can awaken an entire army? Trust me, I have stepped on many a twig, and each time it has nearly been my undoing.  
  
At least two to every tent, most of them fairly mean-looking, burly men, pop out of the once silent camp and make their way towards Keal and me. Completing a habit which I have yet to break, I reach for an invisible sword on my back, and, finding nothing there, begin to scramble toward Keal's hiding place. It doesn't take long for me to reach the crate, imminent death being quite the motivation. Astonishingly, Keal is nowhere in sight. Vanished. Competely disappeared without a trace. He deserted me, probably to teach me a lesson, as he usually does. His lessons have earned me a lovely scar on the side of my face, a small cut in my left ear, and plenty of broken bones and bruises. I can't even begin to think of this week's prize.  
  
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A/N: Well, Raiyne is back at it again, writing about Zelda stuffs... Well, sort of. NEwho, I could really use some reviews, and reviews make me want to write more hint, hint. No reviews, no continuity. Oooh, big word. Score five points for Slytherin. Go me. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Ok, I guess everyone puts one of these in here, so here's mine. I obviously don't own Zelda or Link or any other characters thought up by Miyamoto, or anything else Legend of Zelda related. I just like to write about them.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Pain is not a new concept for me, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it. Being thrown across a five foot gap onto the ground with hands and feet bound convinces me that the thieves don't want to talk things over, not that I've ever been a very talkative guy. Usually, I just stand there and let people pour their hearts out.  
  
"This one is young, eh boss?" a thief with a yellow bandana covering ebony black hair turns around toward a man in a dark blue cloak. Is it just me, or do the bad guys always seem to be the ones hiding behind a dark cloak?  
  
"I say we flay him right here!" another behind me suggests. Frankly, I'd rather they didn't.  
  
"Draw back so that I may cast my gaze upon the treacherous creature." Those were definitely not the words I expected to hear from the leader of a gang of thieves. He almost seemed to have a Gerudo accent, but a bit mellower. The man slowly approaches me as his men step back a few feet. The light from the fire, which is only a few feet away from me now, casts strange shadows on the tents, and I can't help but watch in amusement as they dance over the camp. With a sudden jolt, I feel my attention pulled—quite literally, I might add—toward the leader of the thieves, his fingers pulling out strands of hair and nearly ripping out the rest. "You will pay attention to me, boy. I may very well be the last great thing you will ever see."  
  
I can't help myself, really. "You call this 'great'? You can't even afford decent lodging!" He tugs harshly at my scalp again, and now more than ever I wish I still had my kokiri hat for protection.  
  
"Hold your tongue, boy!" I really am quite tender-headed, and his constant yanking on my hair isn't helping. I try to ease my nerves by clenching my teeth. "You will not speak unless spoken to." He looks around, as if hoping to find an army I may have come with. "What company are you with?" Got that one right on the nose.  
  
"I-I'm alone," I stutter. It's very hard to speak fluently when your head is being pulled all over the place.  
  
"Alone? With no weapons?" He smirks and raises an eyebrow. So, the jerk is going to be cocky with me, eh? "And what were you doing in such a place alone?" His cheap accent is really starting to bother me now, and I have yet to see his face. Maybe he hides it under the cloak because it's so— "Speak, boy!" Hair being ripped out at the roots convinces me to speak.  
  
"I'm lost?" I raise my eyebrows in an attempt to look cute, not that that ever worked.  
  
"Well, perhaps I can help you find your way to the truth." He turns toward the man with the yellow bandana. "Show him to our guest quarters," he says in a somewhat amused tone. Guest quarters? That doesn't sound so bad. The thief, along with two of his henchmen, grabs me by the back of my tunic and begins to drag me toward the back of the camp. I hear them mumbling to each other, though I can only make out a few words.  
  
"...him...about the wolfos...hungry..." It doesn't take a scholar to piece a sentence together. Whatever they are talking about does not sound optimistic. Once I've got a decent dirt stain in my tunic, they drop me next to an eight-foot stake in the ground. After they tie my arms around it so that I am facing the open desert, I decide that the guest quarters are not for me.  
  
"Hey, guys, the view is great and all, but how about something a little more comfortable?"  
  
"I'll give you comfort!" the man in the bandana says just before he punches me in the stomach. Come to find out, it's pretty difficult to sink to your knees when you are tied around a stake, but it is possible.  
  
"G'nite!" One thief barks.  
  
"Don't let the wolfos bite!" the other yells as they dance back toward the camp. Once all the thieves settle down, it's actually quite peaceful out here, though it's becoming quite chilly and my room service didn't provide a blanket or a pillow. I gaze out at the vast distance of sand and sky. In fact, that's all I see. It all looks so... serene. It reminds me of when I was young, before I got mixed up in the whole saving-the-world gig. I was carefree. As carefree as that wolfos wandering—wait a minute. There's a wolfos, coming this way, and if my memory serves me it's not going to be anymore friendly than my new thief companions. Wriggling has never been my thing, but now would be a good time to learn. The ropes around my wrists are too tight for me to squeeze through them, and the post is too high for me to get my arms over. If my ankles weren't tied, I'd climb the damned thing. What luck. The story of my life.  
  
After a few moments of wiggling helplessly, I notice that, not only is the wolfos still headed in my direction, but I have attracted his attention. It's only about fifty feet away now, and in full sprint, teeth bared for an attack. Now I'm frantically trying to get my hands loose, but to no avail, and the monster is closing in. Running out of time, not getting anywhere, about to be eaten... this all seems very familiar. Just as the thing is about to launch it's attack, an arrow comes out of nowhere and lands straight through the wolfos' ribs. It curls into a ball on the ground, much like a dying spider does, whimpering. My eyes search the desert for an archer, but it's become so dark I can hardly see. Wait, there's a small red light.  
  
"Y'miss me?" That voice belongs to none other than the great, good-for- nothing Keal. My hero.  
  
"You jerk! You left me out here to die while you played around." He takes a few drags from his cigarette, small puffs of smoke disappearing into the air.  
  
"You 'ere the one playin' around, kid. Maybe next time you'll think twice 'fore walzin' into a place like 'at!" Just as I suspected: a lesson.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, fine. Get me outta here!" I try to stand up, but it was hard enough getting closer to the ground.  
  
"I don't think I can do 'at, kid." That's just not funny.  
  
"Come on, quit playing around, Keal."  
  
"I'm bein' serious, you nearly cost me my life back 'ere." Come again.  
  
"You're serious? You're the one that almost cost a life!"  
  
"But I saved ya from 'at wolfos," he says, pointing to the corpse.  
  
"Aww, do you want a cookie?" Unfortunately, my sarcasm causes Keal to turn and walk away, leaving me behind once again. "Keal, wait! I was just kidding!" He stops and turns toward me.  
  
"Yer always kiddin'. And it could be yer undoin' someday, kid." With that, he turns and walks back in the direction he came from, the light from his cigarette fading in the distance along with any shred of hope I had of being rescued. Guess I'll have to figure this one out on my own. I've done it before.  
  
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A/N: The first few chapters are going to be short, being as they are a bit introductory. Right now I'm just introducing important characters, and probably will be doing so for a few more chapters. But being as ya'll get two chapters in a row, I don't think I should hear any complaining. Oh, and let me know what you think so far. I've attempted to show things from a new perspective, being as EVERYBODY else makes link this quiet, sensitive guy that beats the bad guy and saves a whole bunch of worlds after Termina [the only story I ever read anymore is "Act I: Trial of a Man", which I highly recommend]. I am also exploring the first person narrative in an attempt to give the reader a bit of irony [Link's word against what's actually happening]. If you don't find it amusing or funny or whatever, then oh well. That's not really my purpose. But enough of me for now. Review time! 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Ok, I guess everyone puts one of these in here, so here's mine. I obviously don't own Zelda or Link or any other characters thought up by Miyamoto, or anything else Legend of Zelda related. I just like to write about them.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
I look up at the sky, the stars finally fading into a deep orange. Dawn. The sun is rising behind me, and it's warmth only penetrates my arms, the thick stake shading the rest of my body from the sun's light. My eyes had been screwed open all night, and I am beginning to feel it now, the drowsiness of a night of no sleep tearing at my eyelids just as the ravenous wolfos would have accomplished had Keal not showed up last night. Goddesses, I should have slept, but my luck another hungry beast would have desired my flesh during my dreams.  
  
I can hear something stirring behind me, men's voices accumulating as the sky brightened. I can feel my head start to fall a bit, my mind wanting so much to give in to sleep. I can finally shut my eyes now that there is light in this cursed desert. Ah, that feels good...  
  
"Wake up!" a voice to my right booms, though the kick in the ribs is what pulled me back into complete consciousness. Why is it always the ribs? I would double over, but I'm kind of stuck. "Time to go." I feel someone cut the ropes from my wrists, and just as I'm about to make a run for it, two of the thieves grab my arms and another ties my hands in front of me. Well, at least now I can scratch an itch or something.  
  
"Leave the boy with me for a moment. I would like to interrogate him before we leave camp." That voice... That's that leader guy we were supposed to be after. What was his name?  
  
"Yes, Commander Hellpahrn." That's the one! Hellpahrn! I knew I would think of it sooner or— "Come on, kid. You've got a meeting with the boss." That is the guy from last night, the one with the bandana. It's still plastered to his forehead, as if he never takes it off or, worse, washes it. Gross.  
  
The rope moves a little fast for my taste, and I'm forced to the ground after a few moments of his pulling; curse my short legs. As if things couldn't get worse, the taste of desert sand isn't very appetizing. The man I assume to be Hellpahrn, due to his overdramatic stance and tacky dark cape, looks down on me with disinterested eyes, as if he doesn't even care that I'm present. I finally get a quick look at his somewhat thin face, which is somewhat featureless despite his wide mouth, sharp chin, and startlingly cold eyes, like ice against his somewhat tanned flesh. He has a single scar above his right eye, almost exactly like mine, and a few nicks in his ears, probably from some form of combat. Wisps of silver hair stream midway down his back, uneven and jagged. I also notice a near tacky pendant clasping his cloak shut on his left shoulder, a brooch with a large yellow gem in the center. He looks like your average cheap magician, but creepier.  
  
"Leave us," he says with an attempt to sound intimidating. It doesn't work. He doesn't scare me. In fact—  
  
"You don't scare me, your ugliness. You're just an over-glorified thief." He throws his head back as if to laugh. Wait, he is laughing. That's a strange laugh. It's like a deep cackle of some sort. Almost funny. I can't help but snicker.  
  
"SILENCE!" I freeze in my place, eyes wide. Wait, he doesn't scare me. But why do I feel as though I can't move? "Yes, that fear in your eyes replaces the ignorance well. You should don it more often." I try to argue, but my damned mouth won't open. I'm telling you, I'm cursed or something. "Now tell me of your mission here, boy. Hopefully the desert night air has cleared your troubled mind of it's deceitful ways."  
  
"I-I was... um... I was going to... um," very suave. I probably couldn't even say my own name at this point. What is the deal here?  
  
"I will not hurt you if you speak the truth, boy. Come, what is your name?" Damn him. Is he reading my mind now? What the hell? Why is he staring at me like that? He's freaking me out. "Ah, I see. Your name is... Link!" Holy shit. No. No way. I scurry to my feet, wobbling the whole way until I can see eye-to-eye with the monstrosity that towers almost three feet above me. Ok, more like eye-to-chest. Stumbling backward as fast as I can, I try to put as much distance between myself and the, uh, whatever he is, as I can. Unfortunately, I can only get about eight feet away, since he has one end of the rope in his grasp, and the other end is fastened around my wrists. I tug and pull with all my might, but he doesn't so much as flinch. It's as if he is made of iron.  
  
"You act as though you've seen a ghost. What is it that troubles your mind so? Have you never met a soothsayer before?" A 'soothsayer'? It can't be. That was such a long time ago—  
  
"Release me now and I will not give word of this to my leaders, and thus you may live." Well, apparently I got my speech back.  
  
"I am truly sorry, but I would sooner see you die before I release you to your bounty hunting headquarters. It is most unfortunate, for you are quite young, though you seem to lead quite the double life—"  
  
"If I want my fortune, I'll go pay a fortune-teller for it! Now release me, or—"  
  
"Or what? You have no weapons, and you are no match for my sorcery." Another sorcerer? I wonder if he's as good as Ganondorf was, not that he was all that great, being as I beat him and all.  
  
"You couldn't possibly imagine my skills, even if you are a soothsayer," I put a bit of emphasis into the last word in mockery. After all, if he believes I'm no match, he's got to be fake. He's got to be. I look around in search for something to use to my advantage, a stick, a misplaced sword, a cliff to jump off of. Unfortunately, this being the desert, there is nothing for miles except sand. Lots and lots of sand. Hmm, perhaps I CAN use this. I drop to my knees, let out some strange noise from my throat, and fall into the ground. I can only hope he will fall for it.  
  
"Get up, boy." He tugs on the rope as if I'm on some sort of leash, but I don't move. "Up!" he shouts, pulling harder. My hands make their way above my head, which may make my plan a little more difficult. Trying not to flinch at each pull, I can hear him scoff at my supposed weakness. He growls in discontent, and I feel a smirk form across my lips, which are well acquainted with the dirt by now. He takes a few steps closer to me, and judging by the sound, he is just to my right. I listen for a few moments more, and soon he kneels down beside me and grabs my shoulder. Time to make my move.  
  
As fast as I possibly can, I twist my entire body to face him in a crouching position, grabbing his arm in the process and flipping him over me. Now behind me, Hellpahrn struggles quickly to try to grab at my ankle as I get up, but he misses and lands in the dirt instead. I can feel my smirk spread to a full grin. Having released the rope, he frantically searches the ground for the end, though it's too late. I'm running at the highest possible speed my body will allow. Running. I don't run. I have never run from an enemy before, so why am I running? I peer over my shoulder at the man, covered in dirt, as he curses to himself. "Ha! You didn't foresee that one, did you soothsayer!?" I taunt rather loudly. Without stopping, I just run as fast as my body will allow. In fact, I would have probably gotten pretty far had it not been for that damned stake standing in the middle of nowhere. Looks pretty familiar, actually, though I don't notice that until I'm flat on my back looking up at it. It doesn't matter how many times I'm told; I can never seem to watch where I'm going.  
  
The expression 'seeing stars' has always baffled me. To this day, I have yet to see stars dancing around my head. Right now, I see a blur of desert and some dark spots, which I'm guessing are not real. I also know that my head is in pain. Lots and lots of pain. And something warm.  
  
"You can't even see what's in front of you." I hear that voice from above me, along with that creepy laugh again, and instantly I can feel my brow begin to furrow. I'm really beginning to hate this guy. He kneels down beside me once again, but this time there's no way I'm pulling the same move. My head really hurts. "You seem to have injured yourself in your awful attempt to get away from me, boy. Are you always this foolish?" My head... "Well?" Ow. "Answer me, boy!" Head... it... hurts. "Fine." He finally stands and walks back toward camp, shouting out something when he gets there. Four or five—or maybe six for all I know, I can't see straight—of his thief buddies surround me. Two pick me up by the arms and proceed to drag me against the pole. I can't even put out a struggle, for fear I might shake my head too much, not to mention my arms and legs won't move very easily right now. This time, they just wind the rope from my wrists around my arms and the stake together, making it nearly impossible for me to move my arms at all. Back to square one.  
  
Now that I'm sitting up, I can feel that spot on my forehead begin to trickle down the side of my face. Oh, crap. That can't be good. My head hurts, I'm obviously bleeding from some sort of gash in my head, I haven't eaten in two days, and I'm tied to a pole in the middle of the desert during the hottest time of day. Could things possibly get any worse? As a matter of fact, I am beginning to notice that those dark spots are getting larger. They're not really spots anymore, but more like tiny vortexes on a flat plane between my eyes and their targets. I watch as they swirl around like strange amoebas, slowly taking up more and more of my vision. I begin to feel a little lightheaded, and shaking my head only hurts worse. Is day in the middle of the desert supposed to be this dark? Why is it so cold? Why...  
  
White. Solid white everywhere, with the exception of some pale, swirling orb thingies. They are glowing everywhere around me, just like the tiny lightning bugs throughout the Lost Woods in Hyrule. I miss running around the little houses trying to catch them. Saria and I would go out late at night, when they shown their brightest, and leap after them like mischievous little animal cubs. Often we would jump for the same one and end up running into each other. I would fall on my back, catch her as she falls on top of me, and we would stare at each other until one or both of us burst into giggles. Childhood is so innocent and naïve, yet so full of ignorance and futility.  
  
Suddenly, a dark sphere takes shape just in front of me. I can't tell if I'm standing or floating. My body seems nonexistent, as if I am some sort of floating entity. Purple and white sparks gyrate around the sphere, cracking and flaring outward. I look closer to see a pair of white eyes staring back at me. A wintry gaze besets my mind, freezing everything around me, even the small glowing orbs. The eyes blink, and I am cast into a black nothingness. 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Ok, I guess everyone puts one of these in here, so here's mine. I obviously don't own Zelda or Link or any other characters thought up by Miyamoto, or anything else Legend of Zelda related. I just like to write about them.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Moving. My back seems almost numb from the intense tremors below me, which feel much like the vibrations of a moving wagon. I try to open my eyes, which are almost sealed shut under a mass of my bangs, crusted with desert sand. At first I see nothing through the thick strands of hair but a bright haze, which forces me to clench my eyes shut in pain, but after a moment I venture to open them once more, taking in all the light so that my eyes might adjust. There is only a blue and brown blur in my immediate vision, the blue probably the sky, and the brown the edges of some type of containment, perhaps. I blink furiously in a nearly successful attempt to clear my vision, lightly shaking my head to clear the hair from my face.  
  
Miles of sand dunes as far as the eye can see pass by, quickly replaced by new mounds. The large brown blur that I saw before is replaced by wooden rails surrounding, in fact, a wagon, which is being pulled by two brown mules led by a man on foot. There is a little evidence of hay, a few straws left stuck to the planks that make up the wagon bed, which is not very comfortable. Every bump is magnified by ten by the time it reaches my body, which is now one big bruise.  
  
After a few minutes, I finally regain all of my consciousness, or at least enough to start formulating a plan to get off this thing. My hands are once again tied behind my back, probably to prevent such events as what happened at the camp from reoccurring. The ropes around my wrists are painfully tight, feeling as if they are tearing into the skin each time I move my hands. My ankles are also again bound, so even if I were to somehow get off of the wagon, I would be tied up in the middle of a desert. Somehow I'd like to believe that I'm better off in the wagon.  
  
I can hear some horses whinny as we ride on, so with a deep groan I attempt to sit up to learn of my company. The entire lot of them, forty-something thieves, are on the move, pulling several wagons with loads of supplies on each, with the exception of the one I occupy, which holds only a few small crates and myself. I can't see the man with the bandana, but I do see a long, dark cape fluttering behind a head full of streaming, silver hair. It's Hellpahrn.  
  
Almost as if he senses me, he turns to look at me from atop a huge black mustang. That jerk. He probably thinks he can just keep me as a pet or something. The sight of him amuses me a little, though, to see that he still has some dirt smudged on his nose and forehead, as well as the entire front of his cloak. "Good morning, Link. I trust you slept well?" Slept? I don't know if I would call that sleep. More like a short loss of consciousness due to a hard blow on the head. Speaking of which, I can still feel some kind of sting in the side of my head. "Peachy!" I shout at him in disgust. "Where are you taking me?" I have to yell over the beating hooves of the horses and mules, as well as the creeks of the wagon's joints. Even the wheel axels seem to grind at my ears, though it might just be my imagination.  
  
"We are going to our base in Baltica," he replies.  
  
"Baltica?" I mumble to myself. Have I ever been to Baltica? It sounds so familiar, but I can't quite remember where it was. "Any plans to release me?"  
  
"If you cooperate." His answers are quite short today. So he wants me to cooperate, eh?  
  
"Why don't you release me so that I can have a chance to cooperate? This is terribly uncomfortable." His eyes narrow when I say this. Reaching out his hand to signal the mule-driver to stop, he also pulls his own horse to a complete halt.  
  
"Uncomfortable? Link, comfort should not be a priority for one of your stature, considering you have yet to experience such a luxury. If you think comfort is inaccessible now, then I have troubling news for your future, for comfort does not exist in a world of betrayal." There he goes being all mystic on me again.  
  
"Did I ask you for a séance? All I want you to do is trust me," I snarl at him, hoping he'll take me seriously for once, though I can understand why no one ever takes me seriously. Hell, I can't even take myself seriously most of the time. He stares into my eyes for a moment, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. What is he planning now? He raises a gloved left hand into the air and snaps his fingers, signaling two men to his right. The jump down from their horses and walk over to me. What are they going to do to me now? I don't think their feet can reach my ribs from the ground, so they are obviously going to have to throw in the towel for the rib-kicking contest.  
  
"Cut his bonds and give him a horse. He is to ride beside me until we reach Baltica." Excuse me? Do my ears deceive me? Did he just say—"  
  
"Sir?" a confused thief questions.  
  
"That is an order, Chateus," he howls. The two men jump, and one cuts the rope around my ankles while the other unties the one binding my hands. Once it's off, I massage my wrists, which are now painfully red and nearly raw from my attempts to wriggle free. They try to help me walk to a rather large, black mare which has been brought over, though I stumble so much they almost end up carrying me. After all, I haven't had a chance to actually walk somewhere since I got knocked out earlier. They help me climb onto the saddle, which is fairly plain leather with a few designs on the outer edge. Great, so I get to ride next to the creep. That's not my idea of a better time. Now instead of having a lightly bruised back for a day or two, my ass will be sore for a week.  
  
The ride is fairly quiet for about an hour, maybe a little less. Finally, I just can't stand it anymore. "What the hell kind of name is 'Hellpahrn,' anyway?" I ask, half in seriousness, half in sheer ridicule. He looks at me as if amused.  
  
"Korpus Hellpahrn is the name given to me by some of my followers. They believed I needed a more formidable identity," he states blandly without looking away from the horizon.  
  
"What was your name before that?" I ask, truly curious at this point. I mean, it's not like I have anything to occupy my mind with at this point anyway.  
  
"I would prefer not to disclose such information to you, boy. Both for your sake and for my own." He waits a moment, then looks at me with interest. "You seem to be quite open to talking today." He turns back toward the horizon. "I am glad you are not still focused on an escape." So he thinks.  
  
"I'm bored," I say uninterested, looking down at my horse's mane. It's really long and matted. Do these people ever groom their horses?  
  
"Perhaps you can tell me—" he stops in mid-sentence and gazes down at his horse, looking almost embarrassed at his near-question. He must be hiding something, but I don't really care. Why should I? Besides, if he's a soothsayer, he should know everything, right? ...Damnit.  
  
"What is it?" I ask, unable to help myself. He looks up at me with a nearly innocent smile.  
  
"I-The both of us have always had a curious nature," his almost friendly smile fades as he speaks. "Tell me, Link, how did you get here?" I raise an eyebrow at his question, unsure of what he means. 'How?' Just like any other, right?  
  
"Through a series of tunnels and caves. Why do you ask?" I study his grave expression, as if he's thinking hard about something. Wait a minute. "Don't even think about trying to get back to where I came from. I'm not going to let you steal from anyone I know." Another smile edges it's way onto his once blank expression, and that strange laugh gradually emanates from his lips. That laugh, it's so... familiar.  
  
"I do not intend to go back." The last word seems to amuse him, for he pauses and raises an eyebrow as he says it rather slowly. He quickly turns his head to me as if worried I'd notice something. Whatever. He seems a bit paranoid today. "I was merely curious." Hellpahrn turns his head back toward the horizon without another word, and I do the same. The scenery hasn't changed in the least, and I'm getting extremely hot, not to mention my mouth is positively parched. I wait a moment, hoping I can ignore it, but it only gets worse. I need water.  
  
"Hey, Hell, my hair is shriveling up. Got anything to drink?" Looking out of the corner of his eye at me with a fearsome gaze, he reaches out his hand in my direction. Looking down, I notice that there's a small flask in his hand, and I swipe it quickly before he changes his mind. I admit, I drink greedily for a moment until I realize I'm being watched, in which case I slow my guzzling almost completely to a stop. He's still looking at me out of the corner of his eye, and it's beginning to freak me out. If it's a stare-down he wants, it's a stare-down he'll get. After all, staring contests are one of my favorite games. I use this opportunity to study him. He stares at me with complete disinterest, though he does it just to return my own gaze. Is he trying to play games with my brain or something?  
  
"You have much yet to learn, Link." I especially like the harsh emphasis he puts on my name, as if it is something that appalls him. He snaps the reigns of his horse and gives it a light kick in the ribs, convincing it to accelerate. I watch him gain more distance toward—Whoa! Where'd all this come from? There's a huge city right in front of us, when two minutes ago there was nothing but desert. How did we get here that fast? "Banchezi, Chateus, keep an eye on the boy. I'll go ahead to Baltica." Hellpahrn disappears into the city while the guy with the bandana and the other thief who released me earlier bring their horses to either side of mine, as if to escort me. So, the guy with the bandana has a name, huh? And Hellpahrn left me here with him. Oh, that's great.  
  
"Hey, wait! You can't just leave me here with these guys!" Unfortunately he doesn't honor my complaint with a response. Why can't he just take me along? After all, he's the one who kidnapped me. It's not like I'm old enough to be running around with a gang of thieves anyway, though I've been around a lot longer than fourteen years already. Which gives me an idea...  
  
"Hey guys, let's play a little game. It's called catch the little fourteen- year-old before he gets away!" I kick my horse's sides hard, which causes her to lunge forward. I almost fly off, but barely manage to keep my balance on the saddle. She's pretty fast for her size. The two thugs are behind me now, though they are gaining more and more speed. They are falling for it. Now all I have to do is either wear them out or come up with a plan. I don't care which, as long as something comes up soon. Of course, a handful of guards is not what I had in mind, but it will do. A score or more of guards stand about eighty meters ahead in front of the city gates, and they look like they are just standing around as a welcome wagon or something. I figure, why not give them something to do. "Help!" I shout out as loud as I can, though I cringe when I say it. Hell, I'm the hero. I'm not supposed to need help, even if I am faking it. "These thieves are after me!" I try to sound as much like a child as possible. This gets their attention, just as I'd hoped, and three of the soldiers mount their horses and ride toward me. I can't help but smile a full- toothed smile, but just for an instant before the guards become suspicious. I'm so good.  
  
"Oh, shit!" I can hear Bachezi shout from behind. "Let's get outta here!"  
  
"But what about—"  
  
"We'll be in more trouble with the boss if we get ourselves caught." Bachezi cuts Chateus off before he can finish, since the three guards on horseback are now past me and racing after the two bandits. "Forget the kid!" Ah, yes. Forget me, please.  
  
I'm now laughing hard, as all this is quite amusing. They practically handed me a way out—no, literally—and now I'm on my way back to, well, somewhere other than here. I turn my attention back toward the city, only to see about a dozen Baltican soldiers standing in a neat semicircle to intercept my horse. I pull the mare to a screeching halt, stirring up so much dirt that I can barely still see the city. Here I am coughing my head off, and the guards don't seem phased. They all approach my horse with solemn expressions, as if I'm the one in the wrong. Time to break the silence before they think I'm the bad guy.  
  
"Thanks, guys," I choke through the clearing fog of dust. "Those men were trying to hijack my horse!" I try to butter them up with a pair of overly large eyes and a childlike expression of worry. It's almost difficult for me to 'look' like a child. The guards don't really look amused, but one steps forward. His clothes, like the others', are very different from anything I've ever seen before. Instead of a full suit of armor like anywhere else, they have some type of mail under their bright blue tunics, and nothing more besides some elbow and knee pads. Their heads are as bare as mine, and even their haircuts are unfamiliar, choppy-looking and quite short. I guess this isn't the type of nation to engage in one-on-one combat, or any combat for that matter. One guard near the center of the group with very short, whitish-blond hair clears his throat as he steps forward.  
  
"What business do you have in the merchant port-city of Baltica, young master?" He has a slightly unusual accent, and talks to me as if I am two. Farore, I'm not that young. I jump down from my horse and place my fist to my chest in a bow, that being a custom I learned from my mercenary friend, Keal. I don't realize what I'm doing until it is too late, so I try to come up with something.  
  
My father, Kealthrus Shikarhu, was supposed to meet me just outside the gates. He said he had an errand in Baltica." I have to force myself not to giggle halfway through the lie. Goddesses, I would have to kill myself if that oaf was my father. Words cannot express how... yuck. The soldier studies me hard, then addresses his men to open the gate.  
  
"I am unsure of this Kealthrus you speak of, but I find it hard to leave such a young boy in the desert alone. Come, you must be thirsty." He ushers me with a hand on my shoulder and a kind expression. Everyone trusts the little kid today, eh? A smirk is hidden under my disheveled bangs, which now hang in front of my face. Poor trusting fool.  
  
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A/N:  
  
Ok, this chappy is a bit longer than the last, but hopefully the chapters will get much longer once I get into the main plot. Oh, I also did a quick sketch of Hellpahrn, which you can find on my Zelda site for your own viewing pleasure. Here's the direct link: http:. That is all. Please don't forget to REVIEW!!! 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Ok, I guess everyone puts one of these in here, so here's mine. I obviously don't own Zelda or Link or any other characters thought up by Miyamoto, or anything else Legend of Zelda related. I just like to write about them.  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Through a large iron gate and towering white archway, a grand square is littered with people of every sort. There are some races I don't recognize at first site, mingling among hylians, gerudo, zoras, deku, gorons, and even an occasional moblin. These groups are yet again divided into the typical marketers: the wary bargain-shopper, the conning salesman, the impulse-buyer, the window-shopper, and of course, the occasional pick- pocket. My eyes are wide with curiosity and amazement at such a diverse set of people. I look up at the guard, who is smiling down at me, as if my shock was expected and almost hoped for. I give a quick smile back, then return my attention to the astonishing display of diversity. "Go on. I don't think you'll have to worry about anything inside the city. We haven't had any large crimes in the last ten years!" Ten years? I guess that means I won't be finding any work in this place. The soldier see's my now pouting expression, and with a chuckle he returns to his post outside the gate, which closes behind him with a loud clang.  
  
I finally realize how loud the center of Baltica is when the clang is immediately drowned out by shouting and haggling. I whip around and take it all in. There's a fountain in the center, much like the one in Hyrule Castle Town but much larger and more elaborate. The square is also much larger, with at least a hundred different shops, some of them in small adjacent buildings, some in the middle of the street in the form of a decorated wheelbarrow. Little stands are erected in long lines with multi- colored canopies to shade the goods, and the pathways between them are very narrow. I take a deep breath and make my way through the chaos of the marketplace.  
  
I walk through the first set of shops with no problem, but as I go farther into the crowded streets, I notice the pathways getting smaller and smaller. I bump into someone, a rather large lady with a gaudy red dress and huge pearls. Then another, a short, scrawny man shouting something about a refund. I "excuse me" my way through, my pace gradually becoming very slow. At one point, I am stuck between two hulking people, on my left a man who is practically sitting on me, and on my right a woman whose passion is apparently ugly jewelry. I feel as though my eyes are going to pop out of my head, and they don't even notice that I'm stuck between them. A site of hilarity, I'm sure, but not from the view I've got. It's downright wrong. I can't push them away, otherwise I'll get arrested for groping the woman or picking the man's pocket, depending upon which one notices me first. I would shout, but my face is buried in the man's belt by now, which will probably leave a line across my forehead if I ever get out. So here I am, squirming and screaming, and no one seems to notice, or care. Finally, the woman sees something she's interested in—I can tell by her high-pitched "Oh!"—and runs toward another stand, releasing the hold she had on me and causing me to fall flat on my stomach with a grunt. Getting stepped on by a goron persuades me to get up as quickly as possible, a feat during which I get yelled at, cursed, stomped on, and shoved into a booth. This place isn't so fun after all.  
  
Finally I weave my way through the people to a small opening in front of a rickety booth with a dark purple velvet awning. There's a man selling something, but no one seems to want it. How intriguing. I walk up to the stand, panting, and slam my hands down on the counter. "Whatcha got here, Mr. Popular?" Either he has no sense of humor, or I smashed his hand when I slammed my fists down, but either way he grabs my collar with one hand and holds up a butcher knife in the other, as if to threaten me. He's got a mad—both angry and crazy—look about him. His eyes look freaky, like his pupils are dialated or something. His face isn't shaved evenly, and his clothes are ragged. Everything about him screams "I'm a crazy man and I'd kill my grandmother for a rupee." Startled doesn't even begin to describe my expression.  
  
"You think you're funny, punk?" he shouts in my face, a slight lisp spraying spit all over me. Why does everyone with a lisp have to talk so close to my face? Now I know why no one would come to his booth.  
  
"Actually, y—" I rethink the answer I was about to give him, since the massive knife is making it's way closer to my neck, "no." He just stares at me for a while, too long of a while, and I grow tired of staring back. So what do I do? Give him a great, big, fake-looking, full-toothed smile. Smart move, cowboy. Real smart.  
  
"I'll beat that smile outta ya, you little piece of—"  
  
"Hey, there's ladies present, you know." What the hell is wrong with me? Am I asking for a one-way ticket to Faroreland? He just screeches and hits me in the side of the head with the butcher knife. Thank Din he didn't use the pointy end. Now that he's reopened the gash in the side of my head from my clumsy moment earlier, the smile I had once before is nonexistent. Now I just want to kill him. Lunging forward as if I am actually going to accomplish something, I lock my fingers around his neck and start shaking him as hard as possible. He's making some weird noise that gets louder every time he goes up, and fades every time he goes down. Kinda funny, actually. I think I'm enjoying this, though I probably wouldn't be had he not dropped the knife in shock that I had the guts to attack him. He's still got the collar of my tunic in his right hand, though he's already ripped it halfway down. Damnit, this is my favorite tunic. I'll just have to kill him now.  
  
And I probably would have, had the guards not grabbed me by the arms and flung me off. Great, now I've done it. Two guards have me in an armlock now, while two others have the creepy guy they pulled me off of. Then, once everyone's settled in, one of the guards, probably the leader, asks the stupid question: "Is there a problem here?" Once again, I could not help myself.  
  
"No, officer. What makes you think that?" I try to look cute and innocent, but it doesn't work this time.  
  
"Perhaps the sight of you trying to strangle this merchant led me to that conclusion?"  
  
"Uh, is that a rhetorical question?" I ask, as if it will generate a positive response. The guard opens his mouth and is about to reply when the scary merchant interrupts.  
  
"That heathen attacked me and tried to steal my precious merchandise!"  
  
"What!? I did not—" I would have finished my sentence had the guards not tightened their grip on me so hard.  
  
"Is that so?" questions the head guard, looking down at me as if he sees the most hideous moblin on the planet. He turns to the other guards. "Well, we'll just have to lock this one up, don't you—"  
  
"That's a lie! He attacked me first! With a butcher knife, too! He has 'crazy' written all over him!" I'm frantic by now, though I don't see why. It's just a few senseless guards. I just don't like being accused of stuff when I really am innocent, I guess.  
  
"Oh, yeah!? Prove it, twerp!" I find it hilarious that a guard picked up the knife just as the repulsive merchant finished his sentence.  
  
"What do you have to say about this?" he asks the slimy salesman, who now has a dumbfounded look about him, as he holds up the large blade. Stuttering over the word 'um,' the poor fool gets led off by two soldiers, while the two holding me loosen up a bit and the lead guard stands in front of me. "Well, young sir, it seems I was mistaken. Take this as a personal apology from the Baltican National Guard." He presses a red rupee into my hand and walks away, leading his men back toward wherever they came from. I look around me to find, amazingly, that no one has even noticed the entire commotion that just happened. The townsfolk are just as obnoxious as they were before, and no one is even glancing in my direction. I find this unusual, but also to my benefit. I sneak over to the back of the wooden stand where the crazy man had been standing before, only to find that he has no merchandise at all, save a small black box hidden on a shelf under the counter. Entirely engrossed in my new find, the curiosity invading all of my senses, I decide that it might be a good idea to open the box. Wouldn't you?  
  
Inside is a crumpled paper and three glass bottles no larger than three inches tall each. The bottles contain some type of dark blue liquid, and I uncork one to catch a whiff of the stuff. Violent sneezing doesn't even cover it. I sneeze so hard that I fly backwards, right into the large fountain in the middle of town. And now that I've made myself the laughing stock of the entire populous of Baltica, I find it convenient to grab the box and sulk off, my boots making sick squishy noises at every step.  
  
I can't even see through my bangs now, which are plastered over my face. My tunic and underclothes are sticking to my skin, and every step is extremely difficult, since I weigh at least three times what I did a few minutes ago. The day is beginning to fade, and a cool breeze makes its way through the streets. I find myself in an alley nearly entirely enshrouded in a black shadow. It's kind of unworldly how dark it is back here, and there are no lights with the exception of the candlelight coming through a window in an upper-story window about twenty yards down. First I steal a black box with weird blue stuff and a crumpled letter—which I can't read until I get closer to the light from the window—and now this? My interest is easily peaked today. I just can't contain myself.  
  
There's a nice pipe sticking out of the brick wall that leads straight to the window. My life would be so much easier if I had my hookshot, which is resting peacefully in Magyre City, along with all of my other belongings. I think I had a few friends there, too. I should probably visit soon, if for no other reason than to get my stuff, that way I can get my way out of the messes I make a little more easily. Now, about this pipe. I'm fairly limber when it comes to acrobatics, but I'm vertically challenged. I can go down, sideways, and diagonal, but up has always been a real problem for me, even with my hookshot. Oh, well. Here goes nothing.  
  
I carefully place my right foot on a bracket holding the pipe in place, then the left on the other side, slowly making my way up the wall with only one hand, since the box is held tightly in my right. I slip a couple of times, each of which nearly give me a heart attack. I'm not especially fond of heights, and perhaps that is why I have trouble making myself climb higher. It is inevitable that I will be at a height after a while, I suppose. Still, I must make my way up, and miraculously do just that within a couple of minutes. I'm about a foot below the window now, and I can here a few muffled voices. Instead of jumping right into trouble, I wait and listen for a moment.  
  
"What are we gonna do if he tells the whole world that our base is in this city, boss?"  
  
"They won't believe him, even if he does try to tell them. The poor idiots think that this town is perfectly pure and void of all crime. They think they ended my little party ten years ago."  
  
"But what if they believe him? We'll be ruined!"  
  
"Don't doubt me, Chateus! Your insubordination shall be your undoing someday. So don't get too hasty and try to make that today." Wait, I know that name. That's one of Hellpahrn's minions! This must be the great and secret hideout of the legendary band of thieves! Legendary alright... they don't even have a name for themselves.  
  
"Sir, what if he finds out about our plans?" a new, yet somewhat familiar voice speaks out. Where have I heard this voice before?  
  
"He will not discover our true intentions until they are properly introduced to him by myself."  
  
"Very well." I can hear a door slam shut, and a few murmurs among the men in the room, probably the thieves.  
  
"The boy will trust him when the time comes to—be quiet!" Uh, oh. Something is definitely up, and I don't mean me. Oh, Farore, I just made myself look down, and now I'm getting a bit queasy. I can hear footsteps coming toward the window, and I'm not sure which I'm more worried about at this point: falling and dying, or being caught and dying. Either way, I'm as good as—  
  
"Come here!" I don't even have time to react as a pair of gloved hands grab my collar and pull me through the window. My life flashes before my eyes when I'm suspended in midair, if only for a second, and when I'm hurled to the floor in the middle of the room I suddenly feel relieved. Of course, that lasts about a half a second. "Well, well, well. If it isn't our little hero." Isn't it past your bedtime?" I gasp at what just happened, my reaction a bit late due to the temporary loss of my senses when hanging over a twenty-foot drop.  
  
"How did you know where I was? I didn't make a sound!" He only laughs at me, but stops and looks rather suspiciously toward me.  
  
"You are very predictable." Eh? Come again? His eyes move up and down my body, searching for something. "Ah, you brought them to me, just as I knew you would."  
  
"Huh?" I didn't even realize I said it out loud. How does he know about the black box? Wait, maybe he is talking about something else. He walks up to me and grabs the box from under my right arm, but I hold on with both hands. Tug-of-war is a fun game when people play fairly, but one might have a tendency to lose when punched in the face.  
  
"This is no time for your antics, boy," and Hellpahrn's fist is the last thing I see before I black out.  
  
Black. Everything around me is pitch black, with the exception of a pair of large, white eyes staring straight at me. They are cold, lacking every emotion I have ever known. Perhaps they are the same cold eyes that Ganondorf owned, though his yellow-tinted eyes possessed an anger even I have come to understand. Anger and envy ran deep through his irises, coloring his eyes with an evil aura. So if these white eyes are the exemption of feelings, why is it that I keep seeing them. They almost remind me of Hellpahrn's eyes, only his still have a tint of blue shining through. I stare into the eyes, suspended in the black nothing that shadows my surroundings. I must be floating, though my limbs are held tightly back as if to restrain my movement, and I can only move my eyes, silenced to watch, powerless, whatever comes before me.  
  
Suddenly a bright white light bursts forth from the giant eyes, and they soak the world in red. Scarlet drops fall from the sky, and a deep crimson floods the ground. The black is entirely washed away in this dark red, which now seems to pour from the eyes, staining their perfect whiteness. It's almost as if they are crying tears of blood, and the very sight makes me sick to the stomach. As if sensing my unease, the eyes slam shut, and in turn my eyes shoot open.  
  
A small room with a wooden floor and ramshackle walls invites me back into the real world. I'm held fast, to some sort of wooden chair, and I can't seem to move my arms or legs. My neck hurts badly, probably from having no support while I was out. I look around for any signs of life, or perhaps that black box, or just something sharp to cut me loose. The room is empty except for me, the chair, and the ropes binding us together. Why couldn't I have stumbled upon a woman's kitchen window, where maybe some good soup was cooking, and maybe she would ask me to join her. I'm so hungry I'd eat anything at this point.  
  
I have got to get my mind off of food. I look around again, hoping that something has magically found its way into the room to come to my aid, but the floor and walls are still bare. I lean forward and put all of my weight onto my feet, then attempt to hop to the door. This must be a ridiculous site. I get to the door rather quickly, but it takes me a few minutes to get my hands near the knob. It's locked. Great. I hop over to the window, the chair still attached to me and making it hard as hell to move around. Even if I did get myself out of the window, that would be a pretty hard fall, though I suppose it would break the chair and thus release me of my newest bondage. Though, I'm awful scared of heights. I guess you have to face your fears sooner or later though, right? A tough decision: stay here and starve to death or jump from a window to the ground and die on impact. So little time, so many deaths to choose from. Hell, let's take a walk, or jump, on the wild side. I'll take my chances with choice B.  
  
I sit back in the chair and try to think of a way to get myself out of the window. My heart is pounding at the very thought of it, but I've got to do it. Maybe I'll get lucky and someone will catch me. Or maybe little pink birds will fly down and form a rainbow that will make me have the ability to fly. Or maybe monkeys will fly out of my ass.  
  
Back to the window. My wrists and ankles are, once again, tied up. The thieves have no sense of creativity when it comes to keeping their captives immobile. Maybe if I face the doorway and lean backwards, I'll be able to fall back and into the street. Then I run at the risk of hitting my head on the street below. Wait, I hear voices. Peering over the window ledge, I see two women chatting and holding baskets of clothes. I didn't even realize it was morning. I must have been passed out all night. Oh, well. I probably needed the sleep. Now would be the perfect time to jump. These girls look like the hospitable type. If I fall and get injured or knocked unconscious, they would be the type to nurse me back to health in a quiet, sheltered home. Perfect.  
  
Edging myself against the window and leaning onto my feet again, I coil myself like a spring and with every ounce of energy I have, push off into a somewhat larger hop. Not quite. All I do is hit my head on the window frame. Just a little higher and I would've had it. One more try. I recoil, and push off...Holy crap! The scene is impeccable: I fly out of a window tied to a chair, screaming the whole way down like some infant, the two girls look up just in time to scream along with me, and I hit the ground with the flat of my back, the chair shattering under me. The loud crack worries me for an instant, as I feel as though I've just broken every bone in my body, but the sensation doesn't last long. Hard to feel anything when you're slipping into a coma.  
  
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A/N:  
  
Ok, if that link didn't work last time, here's another try to show off my horrible sketch of Hellpahrn: Go to theherochronicles.com, then click fanart, then look under "Gabrielle" and it's the last pic on there. It's not that good, but hopefully it will give you some idea of what I was attempting to portray. Oh, and I tried to make this chapter a little longer, and attempted more humor. If it was a failed attempt to be funny, let me know. Also, if it is horrible, let me know. I'll try to fix it up to your liking. Or not. You never know. On to chapter 6 outlining!!! [Yeah right, like I really outline...] O.o 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Ok, I guess everyone puts one of these in here, so here's mine. I obviously don't own Zelda or Link or any other characters thought up by Miyamoto, or anything else Legend of Zelda related. I just like to write about them.  
  
Chapter 6  
  
So far in the past three days, I've been tied up at least three or four times, kicked, punched, and knocked unconscious how many times? Unfortunately for me, my coma lasts all of about five seconds this time. I am then introduced to a sharp wave up pain shooting up and down my spine, and if I had the resolve to do so, I would bang my head on the ground until I am unconscious. However, all I can think of is the immense throbbing of every muscle, tendon, and bone in my body. I can hear nothing, with the exception of a few muted screams coming from the two girls rushing to my side. I can't move for fear that the pain will get worse. I hate pain. Really, I do. This has got to be the dumbest idea I have ever come up with.  
  
After a moment of blindingly, deafeningly, and otherwise sense-numbing anguish, some of my senses return, though in miniscule doses. I can feel the cold stone beneath me, which gradually becomes quite warm for one of two reasons. If I'm lucky, it's my body heat warming the ground, but I highly doubt that. I can also hear the girls' hysterical screaming, which eventually muffles down to encouraging words like "You'll be ok," and "We'll help you." Thank Nayru; I was beginning to think they were just going to stand there and scream at me all day.  
  
Now that most of the pain is numbing—along with the feeling in my torso and legs—I can feel something in my side that doesn't quite belong there. I grunt through clenched teeth as I attempt to lift my head up a bit, just to find a leg of the chair rammed through my ribcage. Eyes wide, I try to speak, and 'ouch' isn't the first word that comes to mind.  
  
"Holy shit!" does, however, make it's way out shakily before anything intelligent can. I stare in horror at the jagged, blood-stained rod making it's way through my tunic, which is probably in rags by now. I can never seem to keep these things in good shape for very long.  
  
One of the girls keeps pushing my hands away from the wound as the other fishes through a basket for a long, white sheet. She runs to my side and flattens it next to me, and I realize that she may intend to use it as some primitive stretcher. I think not.  
  
"If you wiggle any harder, you'll break something else! Please stop!" the younger girl pleads. She's kind of cute, no more than thirteen, with wavy strawberry-blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The other, probably an older sister around seventeen or eighteen, rushes to my head. Her long black hair and green eyes set her apart from the younger girl almost entirely, but their other facial features are nearly identical.  
  
"Hold still! We'll have to carry you back to the house."  
  
"Can't I just walk?" I screech, though I doubt I'm in any condition to walk. I just want to lay here for now, but that doesn't seem to be one of my choices.  
  
"Come on, now. We are going to take you home to mend you," the older girl pleads, but I am not going anywhere. I never intended to stay conscious after a fall like that, but lucky me is still awake and very much in pain. "Otherwise that wound is going to get worse." Oh, yeah? I'll show you worse. Though it feels as though I am tearing a bone from my body, I grip the splintered wood closest to my chest and rip it away from my body, screaming out every single curse word I can think of within a three-second time frame. I am either totally out of my mind or I'm a genius, considering the state I'm in. At the moment, I think I'm completely insane, though I have had the presence of mind to speak clearly, use deductive reasoning, and make an argument.  
  
The girls squeal at my actions, though I'm actually quite calm. Strangely, all of the pain subsided as soon as I tore the fractured chair leg from the right side of my chest. I push myself up with very little trouble, though my back is in some pretty serious pain. Still, I've felt much worse. The younger girl is now hiding behind the eldest girl, whose mouth is gaping and eyes are shot wide. Now I'm beginning to freak out at the idea that perhaps I have lost all feeling in my body. I tap at the wound with my fist, and though I feel no pain, I can still feel the pressure from my hand. I don't understand; I am still covered in my own blood, yet I feel fine. I feel something cold land on my shoulder that scares the daylights out of me until I whip my head around to find the older girl's shivering hand grasping my arm. I let out a sigh of relief and nod.  
  
"I'm ok."  
  
"Are you sure? Maybe I should take a look, just to be safe." Her eyes are filled with concern. Sorry to be the cause of her worry, I nod and lean back on my arms a bit. At first she's too cautious, as if I'm going to lash out and attack her or something.  
  
"Don't worry," I say, my sudden words startling her a bit. I smile in an attempt to ease her nerves. "I don't bite." She only looks at me and forces a pitiful smile, then edges closer to get a better look. She gently moves scraps of what used to be my new tunic aside to get a good view.  
  
"How," she mutters without taking her eyes from my chest. Finally, after a good two or three minutes, she looks up at me. "There's no wound, no scar, nothing." I raise an eyebrow and sit up to look for myself. It took her three minutes to look at nothing but my bare chest? Well, I must say I am flattered, but it's not like I'm gonna get the reward now. Damnit, I'm not even injured anymore, so how can they take care of me?  
  
"Well, that's very interesting," I mumble, hoping to break the awkward silence. The girls look at each other and begin to whisper between themselves. I edge closer to them to eavesdrop.  
  
"Well, he is awfully skinny."  
  
"Maybe we should take him in, anyway."  
  
"We don't know who he is. What if he's a bad person?"  
  
"He's not. He's my age, he can't be bad."  
  
"Not necessarily. Don't you know—" The older girl stops in mid-sentence when she notices me hovering a bit, my goofy, I've-just-been-caught grin in place.  
  
"Sorry!" I say rather loudly through my cheesy smile. They glance at each other with expressions that tell me they're not amused.  
  
"Uh, are you, uh—" the older girl stutters. Finally the younger girl chimes in.  
  
"My sister means are you hungry?" She has a large smile on her face, but it fades to a smirk after she is elbowed in the arm.  
  
"Quiet," she whispers harshly.  
  
"Am I ever!" I shout, jumping to my feet. It seems I'm completely healed, though I know not how. At this point I don't really care. I swipe up the sheet that had been laid out next to me and help them carry the baskets from the street to their house, which is less than a block away. The younger girl stares at me with amazement the entire way, while the older one walks a good five feet ahead.  
  
"Why did you jump out of that window?" the young girl asks me. I stare blankly at my feet, not sure of what to tell her.  
  
"Uh—"  
  
"And why are you wearing such old clothes?"  
  
"Old? They aren't that—"  
  
"And how come you aren't bleeding anymore? And why—"  
  
"That's enough, Delphie!" the older sister interjects as we round a corner. "Don't pester him" There's a bit of a silence until we come to the door of their home, which is rather tiny and situated just outside the main part of town in a nice little neighborhood. Reminds me a little of Kakariko Village, only a little more urbanized.  
  
"So, Delphie is it? Sorry if I frightened you and your sister earlier. I'm just having a really bad day," I explain, fidgeting with the braces of my gauntlets. "I'm alright now, though." She smiles at me and gestures me through the now opened door. The house is pretty small, the typical one- room shack with a couple of beds, a nightstand between them, and a large round table with three chairs standing over a plush red and white rug in the center of the room. In place of an oven like the ones I'm used to, there's a tall fireplace-like structure with a rack for cooking and a short porcelain washbasin next to it. There's a pot boiling over on the oven rack, and the older girl rushes to it, quietly cursing to herself. As soon as she takes the lid from the cast-iron pot, I catch a whiff of something delicious. I can feel my mouth already watering at the scent, either because it smells extremely good or because I'm terribly hungry. Hopefully I will know soon.  
  
I'm totally caught up in the smell of food when I feel something tug on my shirt. I turn to face Delphie, who has the sleeve of my tattered tunic in one hand and something in the other.  
  
"Here's a clean tunic and shirt." I take it with a genuine smile.  
  
"Why thank you." She runs to help her sister while I pull the old stuff off and put the new shirt and tunic on. The undershirt is a light green and feels a little cold after removing the bloodied white shirt from before. The tunic is dark brown and not quite my color, but it's clean and dry, two qualities I like in a tunic. It's just like my old green one from years ago, with laces up the front, sleeves, and bottom sides. It would really look cool if I had some kind of armor or mail to go under it.  
  
As I adjust the tunic's fit, the older sister instructs Delphie to fetch three bowls and utensil sets, whatever that is. After setting three places, Delphie grabs my arm and ushers me to a seat at the table. The chair is a little darker than the other two, as if less worn. I don't think anyone ever sits here. I decide not to ask about it for a while, since everyone is busy and I feel as though I'm taking advantage of them without giving anything in return. "Is there anything I can do?"  
  
"No. Just sit down. It will be ready in a minute," the older girl responds. Delphie responds to her sister's statement with a frown. As I sit down, she leans toward me and whispers in my ear.  
  
"She isn't used to company." I nod both in understanding and agreement. Delphie then takes a seat to my right, leaving the other for her sister, who promptly slams a pot onto the middle of the table before spooning some out into each of the three bowls with a small, metal ladle. I'm kind of nervous now, unsure of my welcome. But I just can't pass up a free meal. The older sister takes her seat, picks up a tiny metal spoon and begins to scoop up a little soup at a time. I raise an eyebrow at this, since where I'm from everyone just picks up the bowl and sips away. I try to be proper, though, and attempt her custom. I get it right away, and soon I'm shoveling in as much as I can fit on the spoon. After a few minutes of bitter silence, which I really can't stand, I decide it's time to speak.  
  
"I never did catch your name." She looks up, almost as if she's a bit startled, but quickly looks back down at her nearly empty bowl and closes her eyes.  
  
"Ramala," she mutters.  
  
"Well, I thank you very much, Ramala, for this wonderful meal and the exceptional hospitality you've shown me." Wow, I almost sounded smart just now. Her gaze rushes to meet mine, impressed with my sudden knowledge of the Hylian language. I guess it's hard for people to understand that, though I am stuck in a fourteen-year-old body, I have many more years of experience. Though it may have helped if I had actually taken the time to explain why, I would lose my mind if I had to tell everyone I met the entire story.  
  
"Y-You're welcome," she says with a modest grin. I look down, trying to think of something else to say before it gets too quiet again.  
  
"So, why do you have three chairs if there are only two of you?" That obviously was not the question to ask, since Ramala's expression turns to a frown before I even finish the sentence. Without saying a word, she grabs her bowl and takes it to the washbasin near the fireplace. I stare in utter confusion at Delphie, who takes her bowl away as well and kneels at the washbasin to clean it. Damnit, now I've done it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"  
  
"Don't worry about it," Ramala states sharply before walking out the door, slamming it behind her. Delphie is being rather silent, carefully setting her bowl into the porcelain washbasin and swirling the spoon in the water.  
  
"What did I say?" I ask.  
  
"Maybe I'll tell you someday, fairyboy." My face lights up in shock, and at my gasp she quickly turns her head to face me.  
  
"Fairyboy?" I ask. How? How would she know that nickname? Only Malon used to call me that.  
  
"My mother used to say that," she says with an innocent smile. "How do you know it?" I stare at the floor in sheer amazement and confusion.  
  
"A-A friend of mine, a long time ago, used to call me that. She was the only one who—" I pause, remembering the girl, her fiery red hair, naïve gentleness, remarkable affability, annoying persistence, maddening talkativeness. She was a great friend, but Din did she get aggravating after a while. But that never kept me from protecting her, nor will it. To this day, I still pop in from time to time to check on her and Talon.  
  
"Really?" Her smile grows to a full-toothed grin. She seems—happy—but why? How could this girl's mother know that? Unless she somehow knew Malon. Perhaps a distant cousin or aunt or something. "What's your name, anyway?" Her sudden question gives me a jump, and at this point I'm not sure whether I should tell them my name or not.  
  
"Uh—" Before I can finish, Ramala dashes through the door, a look of horror on her face.  
  
"Delphie, into the cellar, now!" Confusion fills the room, and a second urging from Ramala sends Delphie to her feet.  
  
"What's going on?" I ask as Ramala begins to throw some clothing and food into a large leather bag.  
  
"He's coming." Her voice is very shaky. Whoever she's talking about has got her scared to death.  
  
"Who's coming?" I press as I stand up from the table. She's on her way to the door when she stops and turns to me, her eyes glaring in both fear and anger.  
  
"You should leave town before you become involved." Involved? She leaves me with no answer and an abandoned house. I follow her to the door, which is left swinging on it's hinges and hits me in the back. It hurts a little, my back probably bruised a bit from my fall earlier, but I try to ignore it; my attention is diverted wholly on the commotion in the streets. My mouth hangs in surprise, for all I can see are people running around like cuccus with their heads cut off, screaming and running over each other to get to shelter or the city gates. I run toward the commotion—why I always react that way, I will never know. You'd think I would run away like everyone with a brain, but no—I must find out what is causing such a ruckus.  
  
All the people seem to be running in a radius away from the fountain in the very center of town. I bump and push my way through the rushing crowd, which topples over me and gushes against me as if I'm trying to swim upstream against a raging current. I get knocked down at one point, and it is very difficult to regain my footing after that. I stumble closer and closer, a journey during which I get elbowed in the eye, and I grip at it like some infant. I think it somehow reopened the three-year-old scar that stretches over my eyebrow and slides past my right eye. I grip the wound so that it won't bleed in my face as I continue through the swarms. Finally I reach an opening, about twenty feet in radius around the fountain. The white marble fountain doesn't look much different, but as I turn my sight upward I notice the water turning a stark red. My gaze follows the streamlined carvings of the fountain until I reach the apex, atop which stands two figures—no, one is suspended in the air. A darker figure, arm extended to the other's throat, roars with a strange and familiar laughter.  
  
"Hellpahrn!" I shout out, still covering my right eye with my hand. He stops laughing and stares in my direction, his cloak behind his shoulders and acting as a sort of cape fluttering behind him. He suddenly loses all interest in his captive, releasing them into the once clear waters of the fountain. The haunting echo of the splash is the only sound in the square now, and when the water stills, I notice that Hellpahrn is no longer atop the fountain. I open my eyes wide in the hopes to extend my line of sight, looking to my right and left. I remain still, my breathing hard and muscles ready. I'm afraid to blink so that I may miss the slightest movement. Nothing. Complete silence.  
  
I take a step toward the fountain to get a better look at his victim, who's floating face-down in water that is now painted red. I don't go more than a couple feet before I am seized in a sort of stranglehold, a dagger at my throat and a large hand ripping at my scalp. This is all too familiar. If I had more time to think, I would say that since I've been in this place, my life has been rather cyclical.  
  
"I've been looking for you, Link," he whispers in my ear with a raspy voice.  
  
"You missed me that much, huh?" For some reason, my sarcasm only gets worse when I'm in trouble.  
  
"You know, someday that mouth of yours may get you into trouble." Something catches his attention, and he turns his head to our left, where a short, scrawny little man is scuttling around a market booth, knocking a few pots over on his way. At this time, I'm not paying attention to the man, but to Hellpahrn. I've never been this close to him. He reeks of death, and a dark past looms over him in a sort of shadowy aura. I also take the time to notice a long scar from his collarbone down, ending somewhere behind his dark green shirt. His skin is cold and clammy, as if he's already dead. Wait a minute—why am I just standing here staring at him? I could have escaped twelve times by now. Let's see, what's the safest way to escape without getting my throat slit? I'm still covering the right side of my face with my hand, and he's holding the dagger in his left, which means my left is free for an attack. With every bit of energy I can muster, I burrow my elbow into his side. His arm quavers, and it gives me just enough time to slip beneath his grasp. He grabs at me with his right hand, but misses, and I make a run for it. Though, once I take full heed of the situation, I skid to a halt and turn to face him. He hasn't taken a step from the spot he was in before, and we both stand now, facing each other.  
  
"You shouldn't put up such a fuss," he says in such a way a mother would speak to her child, strange as it may sound.  
  
"Speak for yourself." His eyes glint.  
  
"I am." Before I can think up a good comeback, or insult, he launches a triple attack of flaming orbs in my direction, which are each easily dodged. Unfortunately, as I am evading the third of the fireballs, he launches a fourth that hits me squarely in the chest, knocking me backwards and into a booth. A glassware booth. The booth, glasses, bowls, everything, including myself, all crash to the ground with a variety of deafening sounds. Remarkably, I am able to sit up with nothing more than a few scratches and perhaps bruises. I look down at my chest to find a bit of a charred circle on the front of my tunic. Damnit. Those girls just gave me this tunic and it's already got a huge stain on it.  
  
I may not know anything about throwing magical orbs at my enemies, but I do know a few tricks. I think a moment, then suddenly remember something I had long forgotten. I grab an intact vase from the pile as I pull myself to my feet. I concentrate on the vase until I can no longer keep my grip on it, and as Hellpahrn raises his hand to release another slew of fireballs, I sling the vase at him. He raises his arms in front of him to block as it shatters directly in front of him, releasing a small shockwave that doesn't do much to injure him, though it does push him back a few feet. It kind of messes up his hair, too, which is now a little poofier than normal. I choke back a laugh, but eventually I just can't hold it in anymore.  
  
"Hahaha! You should fire your barber!" I shout as I dodge the oncoming fireballs with ease. He looks stunned, but I try to ignore it. There's no way he could actually be afraid of me unless it was a trick. Could he?  
  
"You—Where did you learn that?" he asks as if he is surprised. I raise an eyebrow at his sudden interest in me.  
  
"I have a fairy friend in Bauslow," I reply. Some years ago, I met up with a great fairy who was having trouble with the locals. Seemed they thought she was cursed or evil or something. I had to fight a few of them back and convince the rest that she was there for their own protection. To cut a long story short, I saved the day and she rewarded me with a new type of magical power. Now I can summon the wind or even seal it inside small vessels, such as the late vase. It's a handy tool in a variety of circumstances.  
  
"Bauslow?" His face is in utter confusion now, and he's completely lost his concentration on the whole battle ordeal. This is my chance. I stretch both of my hands in front of me, palms open and facing Hellpahrn, and close my eyes in concentration. I mutter a few words—I don't really know what they mean, something about waking the wind god and all—and begin to feel a pulsing sensation in my fingertips. Before he even realizes what I'm doing, a gush of wind knocks him about twenty feet back, right into a brick wall. He looks pretty unconscious, so I take the time to run toward the fountain.  
  
It is really a gruesome sight now, the once pearly-white marble stained with dark blood. I am almost nauseated by the site, especially by the floating corpse, but I have seen worse. One word: redeads. I can tell now that the victim was definitely male—and a scrawny one at that—and I grab his shoulder to flip him over, gasping upon seeing his face. It's that creepy guy from the black and purple booth that got me into trouble with the guards yesterday. His mouth is slightly parted and his eyes, strange as ever, are wide open with a look of horror hazed over them for eternity. It's an eerie sight, and I drop him in the same time it takes for me to fall over backwards. After so neatly tripping over myself, I turn back toward Hellpahrn, but he's no longer there. He's completely disappeared again.  
  
So let's see if I can figure this out... Hellpahrn came into the city looking for me but then leaves after he's freaked out by a silly wind spell. He killed the creepy guy that I stole the potions from—mind you, Hellpahrn did steal them back from me. That means that the creepy guy was probably working for Hellpahrn. Ok, so that leaves the question of his desire to see me again. Why is he so determined to keep watch over me? And who was that guy he was talking to last night? I sit down against a wall in an alleyway to ponder some more. I think about the events that have led me to where I am now. Keal and I were supposed to take in a thief, but instead we stumble upon Hellpahrn. Keal leaves me with the bandits, then I find refuge in the city, then I get caught and get away again, and now I'm here. Why me?  
  
Those girls knew Malon somehow, and they also know Hellpahrn. The girls! I jump up as if I have reached a conclusion and race back to their little house on the outskirts of town. The buildings so far seem untouched, though I'm sure a few of them were plundered during all the commotion. However, as I get closer to the house, I notice that the air is a bit warmer than usual. I round the last corner far too quickly and am almost swallowed by billowing flames. The girls' house, along with the two adjacent houses, is entirely engulfed in a blanket of fire.  
  
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A/N:  
  
Well, well, well. I finally got around to updating, and it's a bit longer than usual. Hopefully, everyone is as confused as I am hoping they are. If not, you are welcome to guess who everyone is, but I guarantee you, you will be wrong. Until next time, PLEASE REVIEW! Come on, now, it wouldn't kill you! 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Ok, I guess everyone puts one of these in here, so here's mine. I obviously don't own Zelda or Link or any other characters thought up by Miyamoto, or anything else Legend of Zelda related. I just like to write about them.  
  
Chapter 7  
  
I cover my eyes with one arm and jump backward several feet so I don't get scorched. It's all burning. Why are the houses burning?! I feel so useless. Even if I did have my ocarina, the song of storms would never possess enough water to put all three house fires out. Lucky Ramala and Delphie got out in time. Wait... Aren't cellars under houses? Holy Farore, they are stuck under there?  
  
I dart around the house, keeping my right arm near my head in case something falls. It's really hot between the houses, and I'm surprised I haven't caught myself on fire yet. I can't find a trap door anywhere, but after a few moments of searching, I find a small window just above ground level on the back of the house. Without thought or hesitation, I back up about ten feet, then run toward the house at full speed. Using my foot to break through the glass, I lean backwards into a slide, flying right through the window. I've become quite good at this, and I slide right into a dark room and roll to a stop without hurting myself. It's like an oven in here, and there's smoke accumulating around the ceiling. I take a quick look around to see a lantern in a coughing Ramala's left hand, Delphie clinging to her other in fear.  
  
"What are you doing in here? You have to get out!" I search frantically for the exit that led them here. There's a wooden hatch door on the opposite side of the room—in front of the house? How could I have missed it?  
  
"We can't! The door's stuck!" Ramala chokes. I run up to it just to make sure, and it's very hot, probably on fire on the other side.  
  
"You'll have to climb out of the window!" I shout as I grab Delphie's arm. "Come on! I'll lift you out." She runs with me to the other side of the room, grasping onto my hand tightly on the way. I pick her up under the arms and lift her up to the window, her stubby hands grasping the ledge as I push her through. "Watch out for glass," I warn her, remembering how I got through to begin with. Once Delphie is safely out of the house, I turn toward Ramala. "You next."  
  
"What about you?" she asks, ducking through the smoke as she slowly makes her way toward me.  
  
"Don't worry about me!" I shout as I grab her arm and lead her to the window. I cup my hands on my knee, and she grabs onto the ledge with one hand and steps into my hands. She's out of the window pretty quickly, and if I had the time to be impressed, I would be. But right now I need to get out. I can hear her shouting something, but I'm too busy trying to figure out a way to get up there. I back up a bit so I can get a running start, and I'm already on my way toward the window when I hear someone—probably Ramala—scream. Just as I'm leaping up to the opening, a board encased in flames falls and covers the exit. I try to lean backwards to stop myself but it's too late; my left arm goes up just in time to shield my face from the flames, but nothing shields my arm. Luckily, my sleeve doesn't catch on fire, and my gauntlet provides some protection, though my fingers and part of my upper arm are burnt, including part of my new undershirt. Surprisingly, the burns don't hurt much, either because of some magic force or because I'm least worried about a couple burns. I'm still stuck under a burning house in a tiny, incubated room that's now almost completely filled with smoke.  
  
Cradling my injured arm, I duck under the smoke and run back to the other side of the room. There are a few reddened cinders falling through the cracks of the planks that compose the cellar doors. Obviously, the same thing that happened to the window happened to the door. I search the room, which is increasingly hard to see around, for something that might help. There's a bit of hay scattered around the floor, which might help if I want to catch myself on fire. There's also a pitchfork leaning against a near corner. That might help. I grab it, nearly burning the skin from my palm with my hasty grip—even through my gloves—since it was leaning against a very hot wall. I ignore the pain as much as possible and grasp the pitchfork with both hands, wincing slightly at both the pain in my left arm and at the sudden and excruciating heat. With a running start once again, I race toward the window, aiming the pitchfork toward the burning plank. It connects, but rather than pushing the board away, the fork merely impales the board. I try to pull it back, but it's embedded to deeply and won't come out. Goddesses, this is not a good day.  
  
As I tug at the fork to no avail, I can hear some shouting on the outside. I strain my ears to understand the muted words, but I can't hear anything above the crackling of the fire and the sounds of boards breaking, not to mention my newly developing cough. I tug once more. Nothing. My brow furrows as I stare hard at the pitchfork, cursing its stupidity as if it is a living entity. In the middle of my thoughts, I feel something dreadfully cold cover my entire body. Cold and wet. Someone's just thrown a shitload of water through the window, putting out the plank's flames. I can feel some vibrations through the pitchfork's handle, as if someone is trying to move the board from the outside. I grasp the handle tighter, my eyes beginning to haze over with a burning liquid. I squint to try to keep my vision up, but everything is so blurry. The board is moving now, I can feel it, but very slowly. I look up, the window now just a square of light, the room a dark mess. The board is out of the way enough for me to squeeze through, so I grab the pitchfork handle closer to the head and pull myself toward the opening, my feet slipping over the stone walls as I struggle to move upwards.  
  
As I get closer to the opening, I can feel something grab my left hand. I cringe and choke back a shriek as they tighten their amazingly strong grip. Gritting my teeth, I decide that I should just go with it rather than fight it, lest I be stuck down here for the rest of my life, which wouldn't be much longer. In one quick moment, I am pulled completely through the opening, just after which I sink to the ground. The grass feels so great, and I am able to relax for just a moment before being pulled to my feet by the shoulders. I don't even know who it is that is pulling me all over the place, but they are getting pretty ridiculous. I blink furiously to clear my vision, but the cooling air around me makes it very hard not to just close my eyes and give in to some well-deserved sleep. Something yanks me forward, and my feet begin to move too quickly for me to even consider sleep an option. Giving in, I blink until my eyesight finally returns to normal, revealing a tall, brawny man pulling me away from the burning houses.  
  
My eyes widen, though the air that rushes against them burns slightly, forcing me back into a slight squint. My legs give out after a minute, and I fall straight to my knees, which really hurts considering I'm on a stone road now. Farore, I'm tired. Can't I just stay here? I'm panting, trying to catch my breath, and perhaps trying to figure out what Keal is doing here.  
  
"Where, did you, come from?" I inquire between breaths. My heart is still racing, acting as though it may beat right out of my chest. I hope it does, then it can choke the daylights out of this loser.  
  
"Does it really matter?"  
  
"Yes, it does, considering you, disappeared and, left me with those, creeps." I'm starting to feel a little better, though I would be completely better if he would lean a little closer so I could punch the daylights out of him.  
  
"Think o' it as a lesson, boy." Oh, yes. A lesson. Just what I always needed.  
  
"And I suppose you are going to stick around, now that I've gone through hell?" My voice has regained it's strength, and perhaps gained a few extra notches as well. I'm not just mad, I'm furious.  
  
"Hey, I just saved yer life again, kid, an' that's all I get'n return?" That's it. I just can't contain myself. I launch myself in his direction, arms swinging as if pain is not a factor anymore. Come to think of it, my pain doesn't really exist at the moment. I'm only interested in his. Perfect timing for Ramala and Delphie to come running up. Sure enough—  
  
"What are you doing!?" comes the surprised voice of Ramala. "That man just saved you!"  
  
"I, don't, CARE!" I say between swings, most of which he has managed to block somehow even though I'm on top of him while he's on the flat of his back. I could have probably gotten a few good blows in if Delphie hadn't run up and given me a horribly sad look. You know, the kind with the huge eyes and puffy lower lip. Pitiful. Even a warrior such as myself can't withstand the sad puppy look of a little girl. I stop just in time to be flung off and onto the ground, hitting my head on the street. It's always good to be in the company of young, beautiful girls though. Especially when they run to your side at every second to baby you.  
  
"Are you ok?!" Ramala cries as she runs to my side. When I sit up as if nothing happened, she eyes my over until her eyes meet with my chared shirt. She carefully lifts up my left arm and moves some of the singed material away to find perfectly unharmed skin. Eyes wide, she looks up at me. "How is it that you burned the material, but your arm is perfectly intact? It's just like when you fell from the window." I'm just as surprised to see the burns gone, and so quickly.  
  
"A window? Ya've been keepin' yerself busy, I see!" Keal mocks. If I were closer I'd shove my foot right up his—  
  
"You should have seen!" Delphie squeals as she runs to my other side. "He was all tied up to a chair and fell from a second floor window and got real hurt but had no wounds to show for it and he got up and walked away without a scratch and—"  
  
"Calm down, Delphie," Ramala urges. I look at Keal, whose eyes are wide with curiosity.  
  
"Not a scratch?" he whispers half to himself. I'm about to tell him off when Ramala interrupts.  
  
"Why are you still in town? I told you to leave." I smile at her concern.  
  
"I had to see for myself."  
  
"You saw him?!" her eyes are now locked on mine. It's as if she thinks if she looks away, I'll disappear into thin air.  
  
"Uh, it's not like it's the first time I've gotten into trouble with him. I was just lucky it was only Hellpahrn and not his entire gang this time." She looks as though she's too shocked to speak.  
  
"And how the hell did you get away from 'im this time, kid?" Keal interjects, as if he's been following my progress from the start.  
  
"Magic," I say both sarcastically and truthfully. He mutters something under his breath, but I ignore him and turn to Ramala. "Who did this to your house, and what do you know about Hellpahrn?" I ask, placing a caring hand on her shoulder in the hopes that it will make her feel more, open.  
  
"It was one of Hellpahrn's men, I'm sure of it. It's always Hellpahrn. He—" she looks down at her dress and begins to fiddle with the hem. Finally, she speaks in a muted tone. "He killed our parents a few years after Delphie was born. He swore he wanted to protect her, but when he came back from his travels and found her married with children, he went crazy and, and—" Ramala breaks out in tears before she can finish, and when I put my other hand on her other shoulder, she looks at me with the most heartbroken eyes and falls into my chest. I'm not used to this, but I hold her close, hoping to comfort her. I've never had a 'soft side'; most people find me pretty hard-shelled, but hopefully I'll be able to do something right for a change.  
  
"Why didn't he kill you two as well?" I ask gently, hoping the question won't make her mad at me. Her sobbing tempers a bit as she talks into my shirt.  
  
"He said he 'didn't have the heart' to kill us then, yet he was like stone when he killed them. And about two years ago, he started trying to kill us. That must have been his purpose today in town." She pauses a minute, then finally raises her head to look at me. I can't really bare to look into her eyes, full of tears now, but I force myself. "Why us?" That is a question I was completely unprepared for. How could I, a heartless, fourteen-year-old bounty hunter, answer a question like that? I know nothing of his motives or feelings, yet this girl looks to me as if I might have an answer that will comfort her for the rest of her life. It's heartbreaking, really.  
  
"I-I don't know." I'm completely perplexed. Looking up to the sky doesn't fill my head with the wisdom I need, and looking down at her distressed face doesn't make it any easier, either. We just sit there a moment, her thin fingers grasping my tear-soaked collar, my hands carefully holding her shoulders. We just stare at each other, like a recognition is forcing its way upon us, beckoning us to capture it and embrace some hidden knowledge. I look hard into her emerald eyes, but I see... nothing.  
  
"Poppycock! Yer always sayin' you know everythin'!" Keals words rip through the moment, tearing the close-to-sentimental feelings from me and returning me to the steel consciousness that I am so accustomed to. I can feel a frown form on my face, one that turns to a very angry frown. Ramala just looks at me with a worried expression, sniffs, and faces Keal.  
  
"Keal," I say, my voice very rough and full of a hatred I didn't even know I owned toward him, "why do you have to destroy anything close to a sentiment that I might have? Tell me!" His confused expression does not interest me. I'm now standing—though I don't remember getting up—and walking toward him, leaving Ramala alone on the stone path. A cold droplet hits my nose, but I ignore it and continue on. "You left me to die with that bastard, and now you come back to ridicule me? You may have saved my life, but I am just as capable of doing that as you are." I'm practically in his face now, and he's got the dumbest look I have ever seen on him. "Leave, Keal. Leave now! You can tell the ministry I quit."  
  
Keal's expression darkens, and his brow furrows into scornful anger. "You can't quit the 'Stalfos March'. Once ya work for us, ya stay with us. Otherwise, the hunter will become the hunted, and you'll have a pretty bounty on yer head!"  
  
"I don't care!" I scream, not realizing until afterward that I'm extremely loud. I'm so mad right now, it would probably be possible to fry a cuccu's egg atop my head.  
  
Keal's face drops all expression and his voice becomes deeper, colder. "Have it yer way," Keal mumbles in an almost threatening way before walking away. A few more cold drops hit my head and back, giving me a slight chill as I watch him saunter toward central town. Just before he rounds the corner, he turns back toward me and rubs his mustache in a pensive way totally opposite his true manner. "Just remember, there are no allies between predator and prey, Link." Then he disappears as the thunder masks his footsteps and lightening veils his shadow.  
  
The rain feels refreshing as its cool beads soak into my hair and clothes. Calming from my rage, I turn toward the girls. Ramala is now standing and holding Delphie's hand close to her. "So, you do have a name." I raise an eyebrow at first, then remember that Keal just said it. Not able to think of an intelligent reply to that, I just nod and stare at her dumbly. "It sounds sofamiliar... Is that it?" she asks. I raise an eyebrow again, unsure of what she means.  
  
"Uh, that's it."  
  
"Just 'Link'? Well, that's strange. Most people have a family name."  
  
"I'm orphaned. I don't have a family name." Her eyes grow wide.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she begins to walk toward me, but I seek no comfort. I've never really cared about my past, though when the Great Deku Tree told me I was Hylian I wasn't in the best of moods afterwards.  
  
"It's ok. I never knew my parents anyway." I try to think of a way to change the subject. There's got to be something more important to talk about than my past. It's too complicated, and I'd prefer not to go into it. Looking over to my right, I notice that the rain has put out the three house fires. The girls' house has become a dilapidated pile of burnt rubble, complete with newly introduced mud puddles. "So where are you two going to go now?" She looks at the mess, then down at Delphie.  
  
"Well, we can't go back to the house," she says before turning back to me, "so I'm not really sure. You?"  
  
"I'm going after him."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Hellpahrn." Ramala runs up to me and grabs me by the shoulders. Looking up at her newly acquired expression of unease, it seems I'm awfully good at making the poor girl freak out.  
  
"No! He's too dangerous, and there's no reason for you to go after him. After all, you are only a child." I put my hands on top of hers and pull them down, never taking my eyes away from hers.  
  
"I understand your concern, but you don't understand mine. I'm not going to wait for him to come after me again. I'm going to find him first." That's all I can say before facing the town. That window I fell from, I have to go back to see if I can find anything that would lead me to Hellpahrn. After all, I'm sure he's not stupid enough to stick around.  
  
"Link!" I hear Ramala calling from behind, but I don't turn back. I'm trying to keep up my determined strut, and looking back is a sure sign of weakness. At least, I think it is. No time to worry about that now, though. It's going to be dark soon, so I need to get moving. As I turn the same corner that Keal passed moments ago, I watch from the corner of my eye as Delphie looks up to her sister, who's about to break into tears. The moment seems to go in slow motion, and as I turn I can hear the young girl ask her older sister something, something that catches me off guard.  
  
"Is he gonna die?"  
  
"I don't know," Ramala replies.  
  
-------  
  
A/N:  
  
A bit shorter than the last chappy, but at least it's longer than the first few, yes? I've been either busy or distracted, so sorry for the wait if there was one. Idunno, I lose track of the time! :P NEwho, I hope everything made sense. Sometimes it's kinda hard to write a fic while you're completely engrossed in another! So just keep reading and don't say it sucks, ok? 


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Ok, I guess everyone puts one of these in here, so here's mine. I obviously don't own Zelda or Link or any other characters thought up by Miyamoto, or anything else Legend of Zelda related. I just like to write about them.  
  
Chapter 8  
  
My steps gradually grow heavier as I walk away from Ramala and Delphie until I am at a complete stop just in front of the marble fountain in the center of town. The water still runs a transparent red, and the streets are still empty, the scattered broken items and silence--with the exception of the fountain--evidence of a sudden, horrified evacuation of the entire populous. I can't help but think of Delphie's question, and then Ramala's answer. Their words repeat endlessly in my head, almost to the point of sending me back. If it weren't too late, I would go back. But I must confront this demon, man or beast. Hellpahrn must not live to hurt anyone else, even if the last person he hurt was considerably creepy.  
  
I sit at the fountain and stare into its stained waters. The body of the merchant is gone now, but the smell and sight of his lingering blood sickens me. Leaning over the edge, I look into the shifting waters in an attempt to move my bangs away from my face in a, shall I say, neat way. By now they are plastered to my forehead and probably very funny-looking. I search for my reflection, leaning to the left and to the right, but I just can't make it out. Frustrated, I squint my eyes in the hopes that it will make my reflection a little more visible, but I find something else that I was not intending to find, or rather, not to find.  
  
I have no reflection.  
  
Jumping up in alarm, I lean over the edge and look intently into the murky liquid, my eyes frantically searching for something that isn't there. This is just eerie. How could I have no reflection? It goes along with the fact that, every time I get hurt, my wounds magically disappear without a trace besides the occasional ripped clothing. No scars, no reflection, soon-to-be no sanity...  
  
Now that I've totally freaked myself out, I can't help but wonder if leaving the girls alone was such a good idea after all. I mean, the last time I left them, Hellpahrn tried to kill them, and he might try to do it again. I don't know what to do anymore. I can't get Ramala out of my head. She's so beautiful, so elegant, so charming, yet I go off and frighten her the way I did. But I can't stop the attacks if I don't confront Hellpahrn. Go fight Hellpahrn and leave the risk of them being attacked, or stay with the girls and risk him attacking someone else?  
  
I turn around and face the alley that led me away from the girls' house. Should I go back? I really shouldn't get involved with her, since she is a few years older and obviously doesn't plan on moving anywhere. But wait! She's homeless now! She needs me! A damsel in distress. Link to the rescue!  
  
I take one, and only one, step before slapping myself. "Snap out of it!" I scorn myself. I have to remain professional, or at least rational. What am I going to do, drag her with me and thus bring her right to the criminal mastermind? Or am I to run away with her and allow him to terrorize innocent people? There has to be a better option. Let's see, Ramala needs a home and Delphie needs someone else to help care for her, Hellpahrn is terrorizing the populous of Baltica, my partner is gone, and I have no reflections and can't die. What else? Perhaps if I question the few remaining people in Baltica—if there are any—I will learn some useful information. Facing a nearby and better lit alleyway, I walk until I see signs of life. Alas, I am forced to walk for a while, up and down streets void of sound, movement, or any otherwise living indication of existence. Finally, after turning a sharp corner, I come across a clearing. There's a towering stone temple, much like the Temple of Time in Hyrule, with a small, black iron fence around it. The fence goes on about a mile behind the temple, and as I get closer I can see a few graves in said area.  
  
My attention is directed toward a small, shifting shape in the graveyard. As I approach the fence, I notice that there is no entry gate, so I turn instead toward the temple. Surely there is someone in there, and if not, there is some way to get behind it. The giant wooden doors open surprisingly easily, a slight creak the only resistance against my entry. The interior of the temple is quite spacious, much larger and much more beautiful than the Temple of Time could ever be. Intricate paintings line the ceiling, depicting colorful scenes of when the goddesses created the world, though there are a few discrepancies from the tales I heard when I was younger. My eyes absorb as much in one moment as possible, from the giant arched windows lining the sides to the elaborately carved molding and pedestal. It seems that the entire building is made of a soft, white marble, something I have not seen much of. Apparently, the clergy in Baltica are either very rich or very good at brown-nosing the aristocracy or perhaps even the royalty of nearby, wealthier towns.  
  
I pull my wandering mind back into reality when I catch a quick glint of light coming from the far side of the cathedral. There's a small door on the left of the pedestal, swaying just enough to let the sun peek in every few seconds. I walk quickly to the door, blatantly aware that my footsteps are echoing extremely loudly. Come to think of it, even my breath is audible. If anyone ever came here for a moment of silence, they would have to be dead.  
  
The door, a stone slab featuring a remarkably vague rendering of the Sacred Realm in relief, is a little harder to open, considering it's weight in comparison with the wooden doors on the front. I slide my head out and look around to see if anyone is nearby, but the only living being is a dark- haired woman in a plain brown dress, kneeling in front of a grave. I walk up slowly so as not to alarm her, shifting some dirt and pebbles every once and a while so she's aware of my presence. I think I've scared enough girls for now. I'm finally about five feet behind her when I clear my throat.  
  
"Uh, excuse me?" I say in a hushed voice.  
  
"Yes?" The familiar voice of Ramala lightens the atmosphere as she stands to face me. The look of surprise on her face is enough to make me grin from ear to ear. "Oh, Link! I thought you left?"  
  
"Well, I did. But I figured I would go around town and ask some of the citizens some questions before I barged in not knowing anything."  
  
"What kinds of questions?" Her question, though valid as it is, takes me off guard. That is something I never even though about. What kinds of questions would I ask? Guess it's time for one of those brilliant answers of mine to throw her off.  
  
"No idea." Real suave. Probably the best answer I've come up with in a while. Maybe I should change the subject. "So, where's Delphie?"  
  
"Home." I can't help but think about the two of them, and how they remind me of the girls in Termina.  
  
"You know, I used to know a couple of girls just like you and Delphie. Cremia had to take care of her younger sister, Romani, as well as to keep her ranch going."  
  
"Really?" A gentle, shallow smile grows on Ramala's face. "It's nice to know that I'm not the only one out there with responsibility. I wish I could meet them."  
  
"In fact, Delphie looks a lot like Romani." I pause a moment, thinking about how identical the two girls were. "Ramala, why is it that your eyes and hair don't match Delphie's at all?" Her smile turns into a full- toothed grin.  
  
"Not all sisters are identical, you know." I look down at the ground, a bit embarrassed, but she notices and continues. "But you do have a point." I look up at her, a little more curiosity surfacing in my eyes. "Actually, Delphie and I had different fathers. That is why Delphie prefers to stay home when I visit this cemetery." I'm surprised at my interest in this subject. I'm about to burst with questions.  
  
"Who is Delphie's father?"  
  
"We aren't quite sure. My mother never spoke of him, only that she regretted having done what she did. Soon after, a man in a deep blue cloak came to our home and, and," Ramala stops short, closing her eyes with a sigh.  
  
"And what?" I ask, concerned.  
  
"Murderer."  
  
Her quiet, one word answer leaves us in complete and awkward silence, and her attention is eventually redirected to the grave behind her. I try to peer over her shoulder, but it's gotten dark and the words on the tombstone are illegible. "So this is your father's grave?" I ask, curious as a goron at a rock museum.  
  
"Yes," she states in a near whisper. "I come here every week to talk to him."  
  
"Does he hear you?"  
  
"I don't know." If I was a better conversationalist, I would have something perfect to reply with. Unfortunately, all I can do is stare at the ground in bewilderment. Sooner or later, the sound of Ramala's voice breaks my uneventful thoughts: "Link—" she pauses, but does not resume.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
"Because I was looking for someone to ask questions and—"  
  
"No, why are you here?" I raise an eyebrow in incomprehension, and after a few moments of no response Ramala faces me again and continues. "Why are you in Baltica?" At this point I'm not sure if I should tell her everything, and I'm really not sure what I've told her already. She crosses her arm and gives me a look that quickly convinces me to speak up.  
  
"Uh, well, you see, I am on a sort of mission."  
  
"What kind of mission?" she asks, her arms falling to her sides.  
  
"Well, you heard Keal say something about being a bounty hunter, right?"  
  
"Yes." Her eyes plead with me to continue.  
  
"Well, I am a bounty hunter. I was sent on a mission to apprehend the leader of a band of thieves named Korpus Hellpahrn. When I was—"  
  
"Wait," she interrupts, "Hellpahrn isn't just some crook."  
  
"I can see this now. He's a very powerful man, but nonetheless, he is still my charge."  
  
"No, I mean he doesn't lead a band of thieves." I lower my head and glare at her in surprise, my gaze a gesture for her to resume. "He is more a mercenary than anything else. He gets paid to murder people, from small families to whole armies. He's practically unbeatable. By the time this town found out that he was based here, it was too late. Anyone who stood against him was killed."  
  
"If all he is is a mercenary, why is everyone so scared of him?" A legitimate question, and hopefully one that will help me understand all this.  
  
"He is a very formidable warrior, but more than anything, he has an ability to foresee things. He often knows of events before they even happen."  
  
"And this is scary because?" The people of Baltica seem to fear people who can see the future, strange as it is. I think back to when I was younger, when every time I slept I dreamed of the horrors that would be my future. But after the battle with Ganondorf, it went away. I kind of miss it, as it came in handy when I met him the first time. He was actually much scarier in my dream than in real life.  
  
"It makes him virtually unbeatable." Her words bring me back into the conversation, as I seem to have let my mind wander on the past again. "No man has ever landed a blow on him."  
  
"That's not true."  
  
"How do you know?" Her eyes widen in disbelief.  
  
"Because I released a little fresh air on him earlier." I smirk at my choice of words, finding myself funny.  
  
"Pardon?" Everyone's a critic.  
  
"I cast a wind spell that pretty much knocked him senseless." If she opens her eyes anymore, they may just pop out of her head. An amusing thought.  
  
"How?" I open my mouth to speak but am interrupted by an old man. I nearly jump out of my boots, being as he just sneaked up behind me like that. I'm surprised I never noticed him, since he is carrying not one, but two lanterns. Poor guy must not see very well in the dark.  
  
"Come, children, it is late. You must not linger in places such as these." Before I can argue with his assumption that I am a helpless child, Ramala nods and starts toward the temple.  
  
"I'll stay for a few more minutes," I say, hoping that the silence of the cemetery will help me think straight. The old man, probably a priest, thrusts a lantern into my hands.  
  
"Do as you wish. I warn you, though, it can be very—"  
  
"Dangerous at night, I know." His look of disgust is impeccable. I can't help it, old guys are not in my top ten list of cool people. The only nice old guy I've ever met was the idiot astronomer in Termina. Everyone knows how Ganondorf turned out, and I'd always catch crap from Rauru. I swear, if he would have called me 'Hero of Time' one more time, I would have torn him limb from limb right there.  
  
The old man stomps off toward the temple behind Ramala, and I'm left in peace. I've never noticed before how nice it feels to be alone in the dark. I close my eyes and revel in my aloneness. In fact, I feel better than ever, that is until I hear something coming from outside the perimeter fence. Why does everything always go 'bump' in the night? Why not 'tweet' or 'moo' or even 'hi there, how are ya?' I narrow my eyes toward the far side of the fence, holding up the lantern as if I might be able to see whatever it is from way back here. Something rustles a couple of bushes to my left, and I spin to look. I can't see anything, and I'm beginning to think myself paranoid. A rustling behind me sends me spinning on heel again, and again I find nothing. The old man and Ramala are gone now, so I'm completely alone with rustly bushes.  
  
After a few minutes of silence, I begin to relax again and hope that it's all my imagination. My relaxation is cut short, however, when I hear a thud behind me. This time I turn around in one quick motion, dropping the lantern in mid-jump. I focus on the creator of the sound, squinting a bit. There is most definitely something there, though I can't make out a distinct shape. Locking my eyes on the dark form some thirty feet ahead, I lean over to pick up the lamp, which had landed right next to the grave of Ramala's father. My eyes gain a mind of their own upon the realization, wandering slowly toward the epitaph on the headstone. "May the immortal soul of thee find eternal serenity, Decidius Shikarhu." My eyes widen, and for a moment I am completely oblivious to the black form ahead.  
  
Shikarhu that's, that's—Keal's surname.  
  
-------  
  
A/N:  
  
Sorry it's a bit shorter, but I just had to end it. Otherwise, it would have made no sense whatsoever. NEwho, I also apologize for the wait. We've been doing reconstruction on my house [i.e. tearing down walls and making a bar in the kitchen], so I was at the 'rent's house. I hope everyone is totally confused, since this chapter kind of left a lot of loose ends, which will remain loose until a few chapters in the future. wink  
  
Thanks to all who reviewed my previous chappies, and don't forget to REVIEW this chapter please!!! 


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Ok, I guess everyone puts one of these in here, so here's mine. I obviously don't own Zelda or Link or any other characters thought up by Miyamoto, or anything else Legend of Zelda related. I just like to write about them.  
  
Chapter 9  
  
I am completely oblivious to my new company now, engrossed in this new information. My mind races to all possible connections with Keal that Ramala might have. He's too old to have any normal relation to them, perhaps some distant cousin or even a grandfather, though disgusting as that sounds. Without taking my eyes away from the tombstone, I grab the handle of the lantern, lifting it up to the grave in the hopes that the name might change, though it doesn't. The light from the lamp does happen to fall on the hideous, decaying form of a redead just before me, and I back up at least ten feet as fast as I can before running into something spongy, pushing it backwards as well. Holding the lantern up, I can now make out about ten of these guys, and there are more appearing out of nowhere every second. Damn, I really, really, really hate redeads.  
  
Now alerted to my awareness of their presence, the creatures are beginning to make those horrible, low-pitched groaning noises. I quickly put my left hand over my eyes, remembering how fatal eye contact with these monsters can be once they realize you're watching them. One glance and you're paralyzed, just long enough for them to do their handiwork. Glancing under my fingers, I can still see the ground and the lower halves of a few of their bodies. They look like the remains of Hylians, but with clawed hands and feet and a strange, yet eerie, wooden mask. Unfortunately, as time progresses more and more redeads become visible, making a full circle of about twenty around me.  
  
Now that I'm completely surrounded, I find it a good time to become un- surrounded. It's been my experience that redeads don't much like fire, since their skin—what's left of it, anyway—is so dried out. I frantically swing the lantern around at the monsters, not to hit them but in the hopes to drive them away. My efforts are successful for a few moments, the light forcing the redeads backward a few feet. Once I notice that they are far enough for me to make a break for it, I do just that, continuing to swing the lantern in front of me. I think I'm heading in the direction of the temple, but all I can see is the ground about three feet in front of me as I run, my hand still over my direct line of sight. As I dart through the graveyard, I don't have time to react to a withered branch on the ground, which grabs my ankle from under me and hurls me forward, the lantern flying into a nearby redead. Red flames engulf the monster, it's shrill screams of pain echoing for miles. I don't have time to laugh at the nearly humorous sight for the simple fact that two score redeads are coming after me. I land hard on my chest, but am scrambling to my feet before the dust beneath me can settle.  
  
My eyes are uncovered now, as I can't very well rely on my torch now—though, the flaming redead gives, in addition to some humor, a bit of light to let me know the temple is just ahead. Racing at full speed, I slam my body into the cold stone of the door, it's weight no resistance to my force. Without thought, I slam the stone slab shut, a loud booming noise echoing throughout the temple as I do so. I lean against the door and attempt to catch my breath, allthewhile examining the inside of the temple once again. The moonlight bounces off the grayish marble, illuminating the entire interior with a soft array of colors cast by the stained glass windows, each created with its own set of hues. I stare blankly at them, the ones on the left side of the cathedral ranging from blue to red, and the ones on the right with oranges and purples. The windows seem to blend together into the larger, more colorful window in the center of the wall above me. It's too dark to tell what the window depicts, but whatever it is in the center of the window must be important.  
  
My attention is quickly torn from the window as the sound of claws scraping against stone screeches toward my ears from the other side of the door. The door shakes violently as they try to ram it—probably with their own bodies, the poor idiots. I turn toward the door, take a step back, and watch it with tiring eyes as it wobbles lightly with a low, rumbling sound. That's the neat thing about redeads, really. They are completely brainless. I've never once seen them open a—  
  
The door shifts slightly to the right as three sharp, deadly claws protrude from the newly created crevice. I spring toward the door again, using as much force as possible to force the door back. Strength, I realize, is not one of my better attributes, as the door begins to steadily slide to the left, revealing a monsterous hand, the owner of not three, but five rather daunting clawed fingers.  
  
"Since when can a redead open a door!?" I exclaim as I vainly try to close the door.  
  
"Many things are possible when you meddle with fate." I whip around to see the old man from the graveyard staring coldly at me, his arms crossed in an I-told-you-so kind of way.  
  
"What do you mean, 'fate'?" I ask sharply before spinning to hold the door again. "Help me, their coming through!"  
  
"I cannot help you. No one can." I can feel my brow furrow as I strain to keep the door in place, at least.  
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean!?" My voice echoes loudly through the temple, nearly drowning out the growing volume of the monsters' moans.  
  
"It will be your fate. You cannot change it, and neither can your counterpart." He looks up at the large, dimmed window in the front of the temple. "Go back while you still can." Before I can interject, his very being fades into thin air, leaving no trace of his existence. I can hear the marble edges of the door begin to crumble as another hand sweeps through the opening, one of its claws managing to slice into my arm. I promptly snatch my hand back toward me, using my right alone to hold the door, but to no avail. I decide to abandon my post, darting toward the large, wooden doors at the front of the chapel. Remembering how easily they opened, I throw my shoulder into one of them, hoping that with my momentum the door won't slow me down much. A loud, crunching sound fills the room, and the impact throws me backward to the cold, hard marble tile below. Someone's decided to lock me in. Wonderful.  
  
Remarkably, I feel only a little pain in my shoulder, though I surely thought I had broken or dislocated it. I jump to my feet just in time to notice that they have completely opened the door and are now flooding into the temple. The flaming redead is even here, twirling in agony while lighting up the temple like a giant lantern. I take a brief moment to look up at the now lit window in the front. There's a row of knights in full, silver armor on white horses, on their right a row of darker knights with black horses. The ground under the silver knights is green, while the black knights stand over a dead brown mass of dirt and tangled roots. Behind them all, a tower falls, flames billowing out of it's windows, and atop which floats the symbol of the triforce, the three elegant triangles seeming to glow against the red sky background. This must be a scene from the Imprisoning Wars so long ago.  
  
I'm again distracted from the window when a smaller, wooden podium is launched in my direction. I crouch down just in time, the podium barely missing the top of my head and crashing into the locked doors behind me. There are more redeads pouring through the tiny stone door as I search the temple for another exit. Interestingly enough, there is another small but darker stone door directly opposite the one I came from. Surprised that I didn't see it before, I begin to edge my way toward it, slowly so that the redeads don't become alarmed and lunge after me. This isn't at all brilliant, since they did manage to evolve enough brains to open a door. The creatures move toward my only way out, and I make a run for it and hope that I get to the door before they do.  
  
"Goddesses, don't let it be locked," I huff as I move closer and closer to my destination. Time slows as I dash across the temple; I can hear my heart racing, the redeads clamoring and scrambling over each other to cut me off, the echoing taps of my boots hitting the marble floors. As I approach, I skid to a halt in front of the door, which I quickly notice has a relief not of the Sacred Realm but of Hell itself. Any other time I wouldn't dare go through that door, but something tells me it's got to be safer than the Sacred Realm door. The dark stone slab moves with unexpected ease, and I slip in and slam it shut in one solid motion before the monsters can even get near me. It's pitch black wherever I am, but I am forced to move forward when I hear the familiar sound of claws scraping against stone. Placing one foot carefully in front of me, I feel the ground to make sure there are no obstructions or sudden drops, only to find that I am at the top of a stair case. I'm not sure how far it goes, but at this point I really don't care.  
  
Running my fingers along what feels like a crumbling brick wall, I slowly make my way down while pondering what just happened. Redeads come from nowhere, chase me into a temple that has mysteriously become locked, an old guy tells me... Oh, what did he say? Something about not being able to change fate, and that no one can help me. And something about a... counterpart? The old loon, I don't have a counterpart, unless he means...Keal. Everything about this town is becoming so creepy, not to mention the now smarter redeads. My thoughts are ended as I step on solid ground, though slick and uneven as it is. I'm somewhere underground now, and there is no sign of light or life anywhere. A part of me wants to go back for fear of more unearthly creatures that like to lurk in the dark, but the rest of me has common sense.  
  
Taking a few steps into what I believe is an open space—probably a small room—I hit the tip of my boot on something, causing it to roll forward. Slowly I crouch down to find the item, probably a rock or torch or something. As I make my way forward my fingers search the ground, taking in every crevice, every stone, until finally coming into contact with something much larger. I run an index finger over it, then two fingers, patting my hand along the way to try to identify it as a familiar shape. It feels a little like wood, but rounder and thinner. There are small ripple-like textures covering the surface, except for the top which is perfectly round. Eventually my fingers make it around to the back of the object before falling through a large hole. I pause, unsure of what I'm dealing with. My fingers run down and into another hole with sharper sides, then down to a very bumpy area. They feel like... teeth. Snatching my hand away, I try to jump up, but halfway I hit my head on the surprisingly low ceiling. A bit of profanity escapes my lips as I rub the back of my head gingerly, wondering how the ceiling could get so low so quickly, and also why there are bones on the floor. I'm beginning to realize just how bad my entire week has been, from awful to worse. I really hate the dark.  
  
I can feel a slight breeze coming from ahead, but due to the fact that I can't stand all the way up I reluctantly crouch back down to find it's source. Resorting to a hands-and-knees approach, I crawl forward, my hands passing over the rough surface of the cobblestone floor. Every once and a while, I find a random object, such as a small bone, a pebble, a bug. I hate bugs. Especially the ones like the spider that just crunched under the heel of my hand. Disgusted, I try to wipe off the guts on the ground, which only gets more dirt stuck to my hand. It's deathly silent, with the exception of my movements and an occasional flutter or squeak, the owners of which I'd prefer not to meet. Small beads of sweat drip down my forehead in a hopeless attempt to cool myself down. They do, however, prove useful in finding the draft. I turn slightly to my right, following the cool breeze that pours over my face. I'm almost there.  
  
I wish I had had more of a warning of just how close I was before hitting my nose on a wall. Jerking backward, I feel the wall before me, it's cracks much deeper than in the other walls. The bricks are a bit loose, and with the right amount of force I could probably push my way through. I brace myself and take hold of my left arm before ramming it into the wall. The first two tries only shakes dust from the walls. I give a bit of a cough before my third attempt, which sends me toppling over stray bricks and down a step or two onto a cold, damp dirt path. There's a fog of dust taking over my surroundings, high barred windows giving admittance to fresh moonlight echoing off the powdery clouds and filling the room with a bluish aura. I stand up, patting the dirt from my tunic while getting a good look around. Though I do like the light, I prefer the darkness to this sight. Skulls line the walls from top to bottom, with the exception of a few holes where the bones have fallen from their resting places. Before me lay what remains of ancient catacombs, probably running throughout the city's underground. The floor is lined with stray bones, piled a good two feet against the walls, which soar to a height of at least twenty-five feet. It's very hard to breathe down here, considering the dust I just stirred, not to mention the extreme dankness and horrid smell of rotting flesh.  
  
I make my way through the endless streams of tunnels for at least an hour before coming to an intersection between my route and four other passageways, three well-lit and the other very dark. Choosing the center of the three well-lit tunnels—the center is usually a good choice—I walk on, puddles of water soon becoming a small river. Soon, I'm knee-deep in black, murky water, something I'm not all too fond of. I continue, however, toward a low mass some fifty feet ahead. I can see something running up the wall just past it, and I'm praying to Din that it's a ladder. As I get closer, I can make out the mass to be the skeletal remains of a soldier of some type, and—Goddesses! Is that a sword? And shield! Yes! It's my mostly-unlucky-but-getting-nearly-lucky day!  
  
The shield is small, and practically crumbles at my touch. The sword, however, is a very old and very durable longsword. There isn't a scratch on the slender sword with the exception of a circular mark on the hilt, probably some unheard-of-craftsman's mark. The sheath to the skeleton's side is decaying slightly, but with some repairs would be just fine. I untie it from the corpse's belt and tie it to my own, careful not to snap the rotted cords. I sheathe my new weapon and look ahead to see a vertical ladder, and I thank the goddesses for such fortune. I run toward it, overly excited to find a way out of this clutter of catacombs. The rungs of the ladder have no dust on them, while the sides are caked in a muddy mess. Without giving it a second thought, I'm already at the top of the ladder and pushing a hatch upward. It's a little hard to budge at first, but I give it a good shove and it opens right up, up into a very bright and very congested room.  
  
The hatch is opened only enough for me to get a good look, and luckily no one notices me. There are at least fifty persons inside, all chattering and most of them drunk. They wander around the room from person to person, and I wonder if this is perhaps some kind of convention or party. I can feel my eyes growing heavier as I watch—goddesses, I need sleep. I don't have time to think on the matter, for a loud knocking sound at one end of the room above me catches everyone's attention, and everything is silent for a moment. I can hear a low, dull voice speaking, but I can't make out who it is or what he's saying for quite a few moments. His voice is suddenly growing louder, and after a minute I can make out a few words.  
  
"...for all of you. And there is, without doubt, a disturbance in the process. Fortunately, it is not terribly grave, and you are all advised to carry out..." I can feel myself begin to drift off, but I give my head a shake to ward off the oncoming illusions of sleep. After all, if I were to fall asleep now, I'd fall a good thirty feet down into a stinking puddle of really gross water. I force myself to listen a little while longer. "...and in the end, you will all be rewarded. As for..." Damn it, there's something crawling up my arm. I smack at myself mindlessly to stop whatever insect might have found it's way into my sleeve. "...and just as predicted, our guest has arrived right on schedule!" I'm busy searching myself for creepy- crawlies when someone kicks the hatch open, revealing a very stunned and very ridiculous-looking me. My eyes are wide with panic, and I frantically search the room for whoever revealed my cheap hiding place. "I've been waiting for you, Link." A smiling Hellpahrn offers a hand in a gesture of, dare I say it, good will. Of course, this is offset by the fact that, after pulling me up to his level, he throws me into the arms of two other guys, each of which are cursed with a horribly firm grip.  
  
"You see," he says to the arena of people—mostly men—around him, "Just as I predicted." He turns to me with a devilish grin. "Now hold him tightly, men." As they obey his command—not comfortably for me, I might add—he pulls a tiny bottle of blue liquid from a pouch at his waist. "You remember these, don't you Link?" He uncorks it. "After all, you are the one who so kindly brought them to me." As he speaks, he produces a long, slender dagger whose blade seems to waver back and forth. "Now hold still."  
  
Uh...no! Squirming is given a new definition as I fight for my freedom from his thugs. As Hellpahrn closes in on me, the bottle's contents tickle my senses again, making me sneeze all over him. I don't have time to laugh, though, since he slashes down at me with the dagger, ripping down the front of my tunic. There goes another one. An instant wave of pain shoots through my chest, but it fades almost as quickly as it arrived. Hellpahrn smiles and turns back toward the crowd.  
  
"No blood! You see, Link here is quite immune to us." Now I'm more confused than ever. "Had he not crossed the waves of time and fate, he would be a bloody mess!" He turns back toward me, his eyes narrowing in an evil glare, perhaps even scarier than the looks of pure hatred that Ganondorf had so often given me. Dipping the tip of the blade into the small bottle, he raises his dagger into the air. "Now watch, with the help of this magical serum, as I change both his fate and mine!" He aims the dagger at my throat, and I only have one reaction: squirm. Squirm like you've never squirmed before!  
  
The dagger flies at my neck, and I try to jump away from it, my restrainers keeping me fairly low. I do, however, change the point of impact. The blade glides down from the bottom of my neck, over my collarbone, toward my stomach. It stops short of spilling my poor, reckless guts everywhere, and is retracted by a less-than-shocked Hellpahrn. Actually, he seems rather happy. Asshole.  
  
The wound doesn't open immediately. Instead, I feel a strange stinging feeling, followed by—what else—pain, my most loathed sensation. Soon there's warm fluid running down my stomach, saturating my clothes in a crimson mess. Gasping comes from the audience as they watch with glee at my torment. That does it.  
  
"Hey, Helly!" As he turns to me, I exert as much strength as I can into leaning back into a flip, giving him a good, swift kick in the jaw. He falls backwards, and the two men holding my arms release me, allowing me to fall onto my back. Even though I can't really move at the moment, with the exception of clutching at my chest in a sad attempt to stop the bleeding, I feel a grand sense of achievement. My new wound burns, but I don't care. For the moment, I am happy.  
  
A slightly silhouetted figure stands over me, lightly rubbing his jaw. "You look like you're not feeling well, Link."  
  
"You look like a jackass," I utter through clenched teeth. His smile wilts into a frown, only adding to my satisfaction.  
  
"You still have not learned to hold that tongue of yours." Still in severe pain, I force my right arm up to my face, and in a manner of extreme sarcasm and stupidity, physically hold my tongue with two fingers. This only makes Hellpahrn angrier, his brow furrowing even more until his eyes are almost invisible. "Perhaps a small cut isn't a strong enough lesson for you." He raises his dagger, but in mid thrust stops himself. Judging by his expression, he has come to some sort of realization that he can't kill me for some strange reason. He's had so many opportunities, especially now, but instead just leaves me lying on the floor like some injured animal. Of course, this leaves a perfect gap for my big mouth to jump in.  
  
"What's wrong? You seemed fine with trying to kill Ramala and Delphie. What's wrong with one more kid?" Astonishingly, his eyes widen in both panic and defiance.  
  
"I never intended to kill Delphie!" Just Delphie? What about Ramala? Why would he kill one, and not the other? Perhaps because he killed her father as well, and since Delphie doesn't have the same father...  
  
"Why not? You tried to kill Ramala."  
  
"She was born of filth!" A voice sounds in the back, and Hellpahrn looks simply terrified for the first time ever. I lift my head to watch as a burly man forces his way through the crowd, revealing himself as none other than Kealthrus Shikarhu. He stomps up to Hellpahrn like a crazed madman. Definitely mad...  
  
"What do you mean, 'filth'?!" he exclaims, taking Hellpahrn by the collar of his shirt. "He was my brother!"  
  
"Unhand me now or you will not have him." They stare at each other a moment before Hellpahrn continues. "I do not pay you to assault me, and if you do it again I will have you killed. It's not entirely out of character for me." The two stop and look down at me. My face consists of a menagerie of expressions, including extreme confusion, anguish, and definite and uncanny shock. Keal releases Hellpahrn, who turns to me.  
  
"Link, I believe you know Kealthrus," he gestures toward the jerk. "He's been working under me for quite some time." Surprise, surprise. I turn toward him in disbelief.  
  
"If you wanted to kill me, why didn't you do it back in Mercia, or at the base?" As I speak, I can feel a burning, sick feeling welling up inside my chest, just under the wound. I lower my head in an attempt to remain still; I'm afraid if I move too much, I might start coughing up blood.  
  
"That was before I found out what you were going to do to him!" Keal shouts.  
  
"To who?"  
  
"My brother and his wife! You murderer!"  
  
"I didn't do anything! It was him!" I raise a trembling hand to point at Hellpahrn, who shakes his head defiantly at Keal.  
  
"He's delusional."  
  
"You didn't do it yet, but you will! The soothsayer told me you would!" Keal points at Hellpahrn, whose head is elevated slightly in an air of conceit.  
  
"But—He's the one that did it! They are already dead, and it's his fault!" Keal looks at Hellpahrn again, this time confused.  
  
"What does he mean, Korpus?"  
  
"He doesn't know yet," Hellpahrn replies.  
  
"You mean, he thinks we're still—"  
  
"I'm afraid so."  
  
"Still what?" I interject.  
  
"You'll have to tell him, won't you?"  
  
"Not now."  
  
"Tell me what?" I plea.  
  
"Perhaps it's best that he doesn't know."  
  
"Indubitably."  
  
"Know what?" This is getting ridiculous.  
  
The two men hover over me, smiling grotesquely. Keal shoots a glance at Hellpahrn, who nods back. I have a feeling they aren't going to tell me anything when Keal's fist is plunged toward my head, rendering me cataleptic for the time being. It's a nice feeling, really. Darkness envelopes me, cradling my restless body with a comforting haze of oblivion.  
  
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A/N:  
  
Yay! I finally finished the important chapter! Sorry it took so long. Lots of important info here, kids. Let's not forget any of it, ok? I hope you liked it. I spent a lot of time on it, and if you don't like it it will hurt my feelings! :P Ok, maybe not, but still. Let me know if you thought it sucked, but I prefer happy reviews. Whatever. Just PLEASE REVIEW!!! 


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Ok, I guess everyone puts one of these in here, so here's mine. I obviously don't own Zelda or Link or any other characters thought up by Miyamoto, or anything else Legend of Zelda related. I just like to write about them.

Chapter 10

Blood everywhere. A thick sense of nausea overcomes me, but I can do nothing but watch as two large eyes rip open before me, their gaze eerie and piercing. The white irises are stained with red slashes, as if something has torn into them. Thunder crashes from above, making the world tremble, tiny scarlet droplets falling from sky. My vision is affixed on the giant, monstrous eyes ahead, which seem to cut into my very being. My forehead aches, as do my ears and arms; the fresh scar along my chest burns as if the wound has just been reopened. I squint, wishing I could hold my head with my hands, but I am paralyzed from the neck down.

With a brilliant flash, the ruby-stained world seeps away, whirring into a solid black void. The eyes remain, focused and unwavering as a low, distant scream shudders past them. The red splotches covering the white irises peel and fall, revealing glassy, cerulean markings beneath. I watch, captivated by the strange sight. The eyes blink slowly, teardrops forming in the corners. I can feel the pain in my chest residing, and when the eyes open again, the blue markings streak into the tears, and are washed away to show perfect, white eyes staring back at me. The darkness fades into a bright white, and the eyes blend with their new surroundings, slowly losing focus and eventually closing, hidden in the white background.

Upon a sudden impact to my chest and face, my eyes are abruptly and painfully cast open to a dark, hazy world, returning me to the land of the living. I ignore the pain, and instead turn my attention toward my unconscious reveries. The dreams are so real, so disconcerting, but I still don't understand what they mean. Perhaps they have no meaning. Perhaps they foretell an event of some type. Perhaps I'm losing my nerve, or perhaps I already have.

As a loud iron clang sounds behind me, I move my arms as if to push myself up from the ground but hesitate when a sharp pulsating pain weaves its way through my veins and renders me motionless for the time being. All at once the memories come back to me, images flashing over my already hazy eyes. I squint to force them out of my sight, but the images keep coming, images of Hellpahrn and Keal and that damned dagger flying at my chest with uncanny speed and severity. My whole body is shaking with rage and confusion, an unusual combination but something I have definitely felt before. That useless sensation when something horrible has happened that I can't do a damn thing about. The day Ganondorf found Zelda and I had failed. Then I had reason to blame myself for someone else's pain, but what now? I'm usually to blame when something happens to me, aren't I?

My fingers grasp at the jagged fragments of hay and dirt as I make one last attempt to put distance between myself and the ground. Somehow I manage to push myself into a sitting position of some sort and lift a hand to my burning chest, but when I lift my head to view my surroundings, I nearly fall over again. The pain in my chest has become almost numb, though what remains of the burning is far from bearable. My vision eventually gives way to tall, vertical lines of light thrust through fine crevices between—bars? Oh, joy. A prison. Had I known where I was going before, I could have easily cast myself into my own prison without the help of Hellpahrn.

Speaking of the devil incarnate, what the hell was he talking about? _"Now watch, with the help of this magical serum, as I change both his fate and mine!"_ My fate as well as his? How did slicing and dicing at me change his life? And why didn't he kill me? He physically had to stop himself from thrusting that dagger right into my heart. And why not kill Delphie? And what haven't they told me? Too many questions swim through my groggy head, stirring my brain into a weary nausea. I'm about to fall over again, and I probably would have had my attention not been redirected to a second metallic clang behind me.

I hear a rusty creak and another clang, followed by the sound of crunching hay beneath a pair of familiar boots. "Feeling better?" Damn that voice. That creepy yet so familiar voice.

"Piss off," I manage through clenched teeth.

"That's no way to speak to someone who saved your life. Had I been so inclined, I could have released Keal on you long before—"

"And why didn't you?" If only I had the means, I would kill him now.

"Because it is not my place." I hear shuffling move around me until the sharp form of Hellpahrn stands before me, nearly stepping on my fingers. A knee drops down next to mine, and a finger gently lifts my vision to his. His eyes look so cold, the icy blue pupils nearly freezing my muscles on the spot. "Your visions, what do they tell you?" My visions?! How the hell did he know about those? They're really just freaky dreams. Or so I thought. I only stare at him with pure anger manifested in my expression. He sighs, then continues. "You caused the blood to spill. You are the undoing of yourself, Link. Don't follow the eyes." What the hell is he talking about?

Hellpahrn begins to stand as if to leave me with his words of wisdom, but I catch him just before he does with a bloodied hand, the pain in my chest rising. I ignore it and instead divert all of my energy into reaching for the dagger at his knee with as much possible speed as I can muster. I grasp the handle with satisfaction, but my hand comes to a halt just as the blade becomes visible. Hellpahrn, whose sudden look of shock nearly bewilders me, has my wrist in his hand, trying to force the blade to point away from him. My arm suddenly gives way and the blade sweeps downward, cutting through the air and ripping into my leg. My screech of pain sounds as if doubled, echoed even. My immediate reaction being to squint and use as much energy as possible not to cry out, I force my eyes to return to their opened state to find Hellpahrn leaning heavily toward the ground and grasping at his leg. My eyes shoot open wide in comprehension of what then becomes clear. The scars, the voice, everything was so familiar. But how!?

"Well 'e knows now, idiot," comes a deep, raspy voice from behind me. Keal strides to my side—I don't remember the gate opening—and leans down to tear the dagger from my leg. I try to let out a faint screech, but my dry throat doesn't permit it. I instead let myself fall to the ground, using the hard surface to put pressure on my aching form in a vain attempt to ease the pain. I watch from the corner of my eye as Hellpahrn—or my older self, I suppose—lifts a hand to conjure a fireball spell. He is too slow, however, and instant death follows the dagger's blade to his heart. The final sound emanates from his lips, that harsh, breathless gasp of unwilling defeat. His limp body falls to the ground, eyes shot open in horror. The pupils fade to a sickly pale blue, and his hair turns suddenly from stark white to a dirty, dry blond. Were I in better shape I would freak out. Now I want only to lose consciousness.

With what little grasp on reality I still own, I watch as Keal kneels before the body of a man, not just any man, some tortured being formerly myself. Keal's eyes are wide in disbelief as he glances from one of us to the other. "It's true, then. You are the same." Slowly he stands with a low, muffled grunt before returning his gaze to me. Without a word, he bends down and takes me into his arms, and through my confusion and detestation of him, I do not resist.

A/N:

Holy wow! Lookie, I updated! Yes, it has been a long time, and I know the chappy is short crap, it's only three pages in Word, but at least you aren't quite as confused now, right? That should have opened up some doorways to your brains or something, or at least a window or two! Please encourage me to write more. Maybe someday I'll actually finish this stupid story. And KC, I'm not lazy! I have school and homework and other stuff! BLAH!

Oh, and you can all thank h7 for giving me the inspiration to write. I just finished reading her chapter 56, and boy was it awesome as usual. Someday I might write 56 chapters. Shaaah! And monkeys might fly outta my butt!


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